In The Heart Of The Family
by Lina Thanatos
Summary: AU Pre-Hogwarts. SLASH. Harry wasn't raised by the Dursleys, he never knew them. He was raised by a man who is his many-time-great-grandfather, who is a vampire and who turns him into a vampire as his 14th birthday present. SBmale!OC & HPCD-to-be
1. A Broken Family

**!EDITED!**_  
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_Disclaimer:_ Harry Potter is certainly not mine. This is, I quote, "Simply a work of fiction by a fan A.K.A FanFiction" and _**therefore**_, it has been written for my amusement and entertainment and that of my readers, with no other purpose. The Harry Potter saga, its characters, the events narrated therein and the world created in it are property of J.K. Rowling and the rights to them belong to her, Warner Brother, and many editorial houses that I won't bother to name. The story and events narrated in here, the characters original to this story and anything that you don't recognise is fruit of my imagination and therefore they **ARE my property**. Respect the ©.

_A/N:_ This story, as its summary warned, includes slash. That means homosexual relationships, in this case, mainly between men. Please, all of you who do not like his kind of stories refrain from commenting on this as I explicitly warned you and thus you know what you're going to read. I will not change my story for the readers, especially not on such a frivolous aspect as the coupling of the characters, which is a detail developed for my enjoyment. Criticism on this aspect has no literary value so I will not waste my time on it.

On the other hand, constructive criticism is encouraged. Please comment on my grammar, my semantics, my narrative and even my spelling for English is my second language. Any reasonable ideas for the storyline will be carefully analyzed and, if fitting, added with the proper credits.

Finally, on a note similar to my first comment, this is an AU through and through. That means things do not happen as in the books, Harry will grow up differently, with a different personality, in a different environment, and therefore will be a different person; even if some of his traits remain the same (genetics _**are**_ powerful after all). Again, I ask you not to complain on this subject for this is how I've configured my story –I will not change it no matter how much you insist. On my note about constructive criticism, if you feel that, within the parameter I've set for my storyline, some events become too farfetched and illogical, please comment.

I am very sorry to have to say so, but if you don't like AU or Slash, or any other characteristic inherent to the nature of my story, just don't read.

**!I NEED A BETA!**

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**In the Heart of the Family**

_Summary:_ HP. AU Pre-Hogwarts. Book-verse. M-rated. SLASH. Harry wasn't raised by the Dursleys, he never knew them. He was raised by a man who claims to be his many-times-great-grandfather, who is his many-time-great-grandfather, who is a vampire, and who turns him into a vampire as his fourteenth birthday present. Ultimately CDHP SBmale!OC

Chapter 01: **A Broken Family**

He felt his heart stop, even if it had barely beaten for over twenty centuries. His breath caught in his throat and his chest tightened to the point that, had he had any real need for air, he would have suffocated in a matter of minutes. His eyes widened so much that a distant part of his mind was surprised they didn't dislodge and abandoned their sockets, and his already marble-white skin paled to a sickly ashen hue that closely resembled that of the dead.

He stood in a deserted, dark road in the dead of night, and his only source of light was the reason of his shocked state. Standing in front of him, alight by furious flames, were the ruins of what not two hours ago had been a beautiful, fairytale-like cottage. He could remember with precise detail its beautiful wooden panels painted soft cream, the ivy climbing up the slim posts that held the roof over the porch. He could still see in his mind the delicate rose-vines hanging off the balcony of the master bedroom, the French doors that lead from the saloon to the backyard. His nose could still feel the sweet and soft sent of flowers and freshly fallen rain that somehow so represented the inhabitants of the house. And he could vividly recall the baby-blue painted nursery, with its huge rosewood corral and crib, the littered plushies and toys, and the soft smell of the child; His sweet child, with his pale rosy cheeks and his messy mop of black hair, his vibrant green eyes, his easy bubbling laughter and his contagious smile.

His world seemed to crumble around him together with the house. A knot formed in his throat, and the one in his chest tightened so much that, had he tried to breathe he would have been unable to do so. His mind was blank in the forefront, unable to formulate any coherent conscious thought, but at the same time it was raging with memories and sensations, as if he was living both the present and the past at once. Just as his mind was being overloaded by emotions, inches away from shutting down, one unique sign registered in his conscious mind. His senses, that had only perceived death from within the house, now screamed at him desperately, demanded that he didn't lose himself because in the cottage there was someone alive. It was feeble and weak, but it was there.

His body reacted long before his mind, and with speed impossible to be matched by any human he ran towards the house and into it. The flames rose around him, but he felt no warmth; they licked his body, but he expertly ignored the pain. He followed the feeling of the fading spark of life through the entrance hall, past the burning corpse of a black hair man, up the stairs and through the corridor into the farthest room to the right. Paying no mind to any potential dangers or his aching, burned body, he pushed the blazing door open with his bared hands.

The door fell into the room with a deafening crush and he stumbled in, all his grace forgotten as he rushed to the fallen rosewood crib near the window of the burning room. Somewhere in the back of his mind he registered a set of elegant black robes being eaten by the flames and, lying just in front of the crib, the dead body of a beautiful red haired woman. They were soon forgotten as his eyes focused on his objective. There, under the slowly burning remains of the crib, hiding under an angle of the fallen cage-like bed and covered by a charred mattress, was that small but O so precious life that he was trying to save.

For one agonizingly long second he stood there and stared, his mind once again blank. Then, a flicker in the unstable life sprang him into action. With swift but calculated movements he cleared the space around the crib, and then carefully pulled the burning rosewood off the fallen mattress. Finally, slowly, filled with trepidation, he lifted the beddings. There he found, clutching a pastel green woollen blanket and curled up into a small ball in a defensive manner, that child he remembered so well, still the same but so horrifyingly different from the one in his memories. His delicate rosy pale skin was now a terrifying marble white, too similar to his own for his comfort. His eyes were shut tight, and hitched breaths racked his small frame. Blood flowed freely down his face from some cut on his forehead and matted on his hair and clothes. He had last seen the boy when he was four months old, and now he was fifteen and hanging to his life by a threat, each breath and each heartbeat pushing a bit more of life out of his diminutive body.

Slowly, carefully, he reached out for the child, suddenly aware of all the pain and strain his body was under. Pushing the abrasive pain of the burns, the sharp stabs of the cuts, and the dull ache of his smoke-filled chest to the back of his mind, he laid one burnt bleeding hand on the child's shoulder. He then allowed just one spark of his magic to flow over the infant and back to him, willing it to feel the boy's condition. Once assured that moving the baby wouldn't kill him, he wrapped him in his blanket and picked him up. With upmost tenderness he laid the child's head on the crook of his elbow and tucked him against his chest, his suddenly weak arms snaking with difficulty around the shaking frame of the infant. Nearly without a thought he ripped off a piece of his shirt and pressed the fabric against the wound on the child's forehead, almost unconsciously caressing and tending to it with his shaking hands. He took a few seconds to brace himself and make sure that his limbs wouldn't fail him before he pushed himself to his feet and walked out of the room as quickly as he dared risk and as fast as his burnt and aching body, the wounded child and the falling house allowed him.

The walk out was much slower than his mad sprint in. He descended the frail stairs testing every step before standing on it. The wooden structure screeched and the flames roared around him. With every step he took his keen senses, so high on adrenaline and paranoia, registered every tremor of the cottage as if it was its last before it crumpled on itself and buried him and the baby under its ruins. After five tortuous minutes that stretched into eternity he arrived to the door-less entrance threshold and left the house, his hands still tending to the wounded child. Just as he walked off the front lawn and past the fence, the deep rumbling of a motor in the distance brought his attention back to his surroundings. The sound startled him, stopped him in his track. He quickly regained control of his body and moved swiftly and silently away from the house and the road and into the forest. There he leaned against a tree near the edge, listening intently as the humming became a full out roar as the vehicle came closer and closer. When he thought it couldn't get louder the screech of tires on the pavement announced the vehicles abrupt stop before the motor's roar lowered abruptly to a humming lull. He risked diverting his attention back to the baby for just a second to find him still unconscious in his arms, and then quickly focused back on his surroundings and any potential danger.

It wasn't long before the hum of the motor was suppressed by the senseless and outraged screams of a man. It was a rich baritone torn by anguish and pain too deep to be physical. As the tirade went on, the angry shouts intermingled with anguished cries and were hitched by sorrowful sobs until the man's energy was apparently depleted. The unknown man crumbled boneless onto the ground and his voice faded into breathless sobs that he could barely hear, buried as they were by the groans of the crumbling wooden house, the crackling of the fire and the still humming motor. The pause in the man's fury stretched for long minutes until one final inarticulate scream of pain ripped out of his throat, accompanied by the loud and dull clank of wood hitting metal. The scream faded and echoed over the empty lane before the oppressive and loud silence of the death-filled night and the burning fire pushed its dominance imperatively over the wreck, every now and then interrupted by an unintelligible string of curses that were swallowed by the night.

As the grief, the sorrow and the oppressive feeling of death seemed to grow heavier and thicken, the very air weighing down on his shoulders like a solid burden, the more cynical part of his mind, in an hysteric attempt to throw away the pain, thought '_the man needs anger management lessons_'. He quickly pushed this train of thoughts out of his mind and forced himself to focus on the more pressing matters. He had a bleeding, miraculously not burnt, maybe dying child in his arms. Only a dirty piece of burned fabric was there to prevent that the infant bled to death, and still there was the possibility that the carbon monoxide was running its course in the child's blood and would kill him, wound or no wound. Also, he had his own wounds and burns to consider. They were certainly draining his energy as his magic worked overtime trying to repair the extensive damage. And finally, there was an unknown man that could be, in the best of cases, willing to help him or, in the worst case scenario, he could want the child for himself and leave him no option but to kill him. For there was no way he would let anyone else have his grandchild. Weighing his options, he decided to risk a glance at the house, trying to identify the newcomer.

There, on his knees next to a huge motorbike, fists on the ground and glaring intently at the burning cottage, was a man he new quite well. He was pale with midnight-black hair and startling sky-blue eyes, of sharp but smooth features, thin lips, strong and lithe built, with not overly broad shoulders. He was probably just an inch under to six feet tall and, if his memory served him well, he was turning twenty three in a just over a month.

He turned away quickly, hiding his face from the light of the fire. He stared at the darkness in front of him, going over his options and their possible consequences. Soon he made up his mind and stepped out of the shadows to become visible as he called the man's name.

"Sirius!" he shouted while his eyes swept through his surroundings, making sure that there was no one else but the three of them there.

The black haired young adult snapped into action faster than any human he had ever seen. He had his wand out and pointing directly at him in the blink of an eye while his eyes scanned his surroundings meticulously. The black haired man's mind worked overdrive, dissecting the situation and calculating his position and his chances of victory in a possible confrontation. The blue orbs seemed to drink in every detail with swift efficiency, expertly analyzing the terrain and his figure, which probably appeared to be in a deplorable state to those eyes. It wasn't long before the pale eyes came to rest on the bundle in his arms and the wand pointed at him lowered ever so slightly. Soon Sirius' blue eyes returned to his own and held them for long seconds, gauging him. Before any judgement could be mad, they were forced into action as set of footsteps, heavier than that of the stockiest human, approached the house. Making as little noise as possible he moved swiftly back into the shadows of the trees, followed closely by the light and sharp steps of the young auror. They continued walking in silence until the where sure that whatever noise they made wouldn't be heard by anyone near the cottage.

The silence that followed after their rushed escape from the unknown third party was deafening, made all the more oppressive by the lack of the crackling fire that had accompanied their encounter. It ringed in their ears for long tense moments until the ragged, laboured breaths of the toddler in the arms of the older of the two adults broke through their fogged minds that where still coming to terms with the fact that two of their most beloved friends had been ripped away from them by an atrocious death. Finally, Sirius walked around him so that they were facing each other. In that moment Sirius allowed himself to really look at the man for the first time.

He was of average height, standing just over five feet nine. His skin, he knew, was of a natural ivory white tone, but now it had an ashen, dead hue, although it still preserved its porcelain doll-like smoothness. His eyes were naturally a radiant crimson red and so was his hair that, although naturally messy, it now looked completely dishevelled, just like the man himself. His fine linen shirt was torn and matted with blood, a scratch marred his perfect face, and his hand and exposed forearms showed burns that were healing at an inhuman rate as he stared. His features were that of a man not much older than himself, by no means past his mid twenties, but his eyes showed a wisdom and knowledge that could only be achieved after many lifetimes. He seemed resigned as he waited for his resolution. It wasn't until the bundle in the redhead's arms squirmed slightly and brought a smile upon the marble white face that recognition dawned on his face.

"Stephanos?" he asked, searching for confirmation in the red orbs that rose faster than lighting to trap his own with their penetrating gaze. He took a tentative step closer, pocketing his wand and then raising his empty hands just enough so the other man could see them.

The unnaturally beautiful face of the redhead relaxed after a moment, and allowed a sad smile to morph his features. Something about that smile ripped at Sirius heart; a sense of finality, as if its appearance forced everything that had happened to sink in and become true even in his mind. It forced him to accept it all and made him incapable of hiding in denial. A shudder travelled up his spine and he averted his gaze, unable to hold those sorrowful eyes any longer.

"I came to see my granddaughter and I found her house burning, her and her husband's bodies lying dead in their own home and my grandson wounded and close to death, suffocating in the fire. What happened, Sirius?" His tone was calm, quite and it held no accusation, but it was firm and it demanded an answer.

"I... I'm sorry Vincent, I..."

"Don't excuse yourself, Sirius, just tell me what happened, please" interrupted the redhead, a heavy sigh wracking his frame, his eyes closed in resigned mourning.

The weight of the request was more than what Sirius could take. He stumbled back a couple of steps before sagging and falling back into the much needed support of a robust oak. Beams of moonlight slipped through the thick foliage and illuminated both pale faces as the silence and the minutes dilated into one long eternity. The hitched breathing of the child in the redhead's arms and the heavy breaths of the pale eyed man cut sharply into the silence as he tried to gather himself enough to answer.

"They went into hiding, because of the prophesy..."

"I know..."

"They went under the _Fidelius_ not two weeks ago..."

"Where you their secret keeper?" asked Vincent, his voice once again sharp and demanding but, just like before, with no reproach.

"NO!" Sirius' eyes seemed to come back to life, vehemently claiming innocence. "You know I would _never_ betray James and Lily," he hissed fiercely. "Not James, he was my brother, my only real family after..."

"I know, Sirius," interrupted the redhead soothingly. "I know you were loyal to them, I just needed to make sure."

"I- I understand." He took a deep calming breath before continuing. "Peter was their secret Keeper..."

"Peter Pettigrew?"

"Yes. He... he betrayed them." His voice broke with those words that made everything real once again, and brought all the horrors of the last hours crushing down on him.

"Vincent..."

"Yes?" asked the redhead, tilting his head to one side trying to catch Sirius gaze. Something in his voice worried him; the hollow despair in it had all the warning bells ringing madly mad in his mind and they screamed danger, not for him, but for the young man standing before him.

"Vincent, he sold them to Voldemort! I trusted him! _**We**_ trusted him! And he sold them out." Sirius was rambling, his eyes wide and unfocused.

"Sirius, calm down..."

"That son of a bitch! He was our brother, we loved him and he stabbed us in our backs. How could he! What ever happened that made him betray us like that? We would've all died for him. How _dare_ he! I'll hunt him down! I'll track him, and find him, and make him pay..."

"Sirius, listen to me..."

"... We knew there was a traitor, a spy within The Order. And I thought it was Remus. O god, I thought it was Remus. I was being just as prejudiced as those bloody Death Eaters. I didn't trust him because he was a werewolf, but I trusted that bastard... And he gave them up to Voldemort..."

"Sirius, please..."

"I told James to switch secret keeps so that everyone would think it was me but it actually wasn't -a diversion... but instead I gave them up to the enemy in silver platter... I... I killed them Vincent..."

"Sirius-!" his words fell on deaf ears for Sirius was lost in guilt and despair. It took several sharp and loud calls, a healthy dose of threats and a warning flare of his magic to bring the man back to reality. By the time Sirius' eyes had regained their focus and his mind had reintegrated itself to reality they were both drained, emotionally, magically and mentally.

"Vincent, I have to go. Please take care of Harry, I-"

"_Shut up_!" The low hiss carried over the short distance between then like a whip, striking Sirius into a startled and submissive silence. "Listen to yourself Black! Hell-bent on revenge and trying to justify some ridiculous desperate kamikaze attempt to hunt down the traitor in the name of empty justice when it will only lead to your death. What would you gain, Black? Some sick satisfaction?" His voice dripped sarcasm and disgust as he continued to rebuke the young man. "I don't know if you've realised it, but, just like you said, anyone would assume that you where my granddaughter's family's secret keeper and that means you are a wanted man, Black. You go out there, and it's a one-way ticket to Azkaban. You probably won't even get a trial. Why bother when it's just so _obvious_ that the Potters would choose _you_ as their secret keeper," he carried on sardonically. He paused to catch his breath and glared at the pale eyed man who was now sitting on the ground, his back against a tree trunk, shaking slightly in a combination of fear, disgust, grief, fury, and so many other emotions that seemed to battle for a place in his expression, distorting his face. "You forget you place, Black. You are my grandchild's godfather. You are _this_ child's godfather, and it's your responsibility to see to his wellbeing above everything else, your sick desires included."

"But Pettigrew...!"

"Can rot in hell for all I care! Are you trying to insinuate that killing him for your petty revenge is more important than Harry's wellbeing?"

"THIS IS **NOT** PETTY REVENGE! IT'S JAMES AND LILY WE'RE TAKING ABOUT!" Sirius was once again on his feet, glaring defiantly at Vincent

"AND THIS IS THEIR SON WE'RE TALKING ABOUT!" He took a step forward threateningly, making the other man step back until his back was pressed against the tree trunk once again, his eyes wide in fear. Emotions and magic seemed to materialize, making the air denser and heavier and causing sparks and shimmers of light to sprout around the two men. It was a contest of wills, power and testosterone that could have easily escalated to a full out battle if the child in the redhead's arms hadn't shivered and whimpered under the pressure. The eyes of both men swivelled to the infant. In less than a second, all their rage, their fears and their pains were thrown out the metaphorical window as their whole world shrank and became concern for the small boy. Said child was squirming in the arms of his great-grandfather while soft whines of pain escaped his lips and a river of tears flowed down his cheeks from his now painfully tight shut eyes.

With a heavy sigh of weariness Vincent let go of all the rage that had built up in his chest as a result of his confrontation with Sirius. He then allowed the dull aches of his body and his worry for the child to override all other feelings. Muttering sweet nothings to the infant, he bounced him carefully in his arms, making hushing sounds and trying to soothe the baby into slumber. At the same time, he slumped tiredly against the tree trunk behind him once again and, foregoing his already forgotten grace, he slumped defeated to the ground, his image that of a heap of tattered clothes and beaten limbs.

Meanwhile, Sirius stood in startled silence throughout the quiet display of weakness that he had not thought possible from the man before him.

He had known Vincent for the best part of five years. During that time the redhead had wormed his way into James', Lily's and his own heart since the very first night they met him. With open trust, he had asked them to help him search for his granddaughter whom he had unwittingly found and who had been standing right in front of him. They had complied, compelled by his sincere voice and his eyes that, although not outright pleading, conveyed openly the man's emotions and his desire, his need to find his granddaughter. More than once, he had wondered why and how someone so young could be searching for his granddaughter, of all things. But once they unravelled the vague clues from scrying attempts, bloodline parchments and many other instruments, and they found that the missing girl was actually Lily, the young man of sincere but unsettling red eyes had reserved no secrets to them.

It had been another night, not two months after the first one. The four of them had gathered around the kitchen table of the young Potter couple with a coffee set and some biscuits to fill whatever silence that could arise. With a filled cup in his hands that remained untouched the whole night, Vincent launched into a detail explanation of his origins. He was a vampire of an ancient House, that is, one of the nations of vampires, and was an ancient himself, over two thousand years old. Early in his life he had fallen for a woman who he had loved dearly and who had loved him deeply, but had refused to give up mortality. This relationship had resulted in many offspring, and thus in a line of part-human and part-vampires that with time had continued to marry humans and had lost all vampire traits. Many of these lines had died away with time, but those that remained he had kept track of, compelled to see to their wellbeing by his vampiric nature, that tied him irrevocably to his family. This had lead him from his actual home in Spain to Britain and then to the Potters in search for Lily. His open, sincere eyes, coupled up with all the tests that undoubtedly signalled Lily as the deceptively young looking man's relative, pushed down any doubts of his intentions and they readily admitted him into their lives. Soon, Remus and Peter were both introduced to the charming man, and though there were some rough edges between the werewolf and the vampire, he, in Remus' words, became part of the pack. He had accepted their involvement in the war with a resigned sigh, a tight smile and the deep comprehension that only experience could give and that he had plenty of. He had gone out of his way to help them. He'd fought alongside them, killed for them and saved their lives innumerable times, but he never allowed them to feel indebted –family was supposed to watch over family, and anyways, they had saved his life just as many times, he would said.

Never since that cold February night nearly five years ago had he seen the vampire so defeated, looking so tired and lost. He had always been a pillar, a firm and strong foundation to hold their group upright even in the face of the worst of what that war had to offer: the countless corpses, the tortured screams, the bleeding comrades and the lost friends. He was a source of tranquillity, of balance, giving his unconditional support whenever it was needed. He was ever present as a shoulder to cry or rest on, or as the voice of reason, giving counsel and mute support just at the right moment. But Sirius could see now that this strong man was still a man, vampire or not, and was not immune to the pains and sufferings that afflicted others. A deep sigh slowly passed his lips allowing him to gather himself, push down his fear of the man's power, his fervent desire for revenge and his own pain and grief before he walked up to the vampire and lowered himself next to him, resting a comforting hand over his shoulders. He then followed the redhead's example and sat against the ancient tree, crossed his legs, draped one arm around the vampire's shoulders and fixed his own tired gaze on the toddler. Soon the quiet sobs and whimpers of the wounded child faded into silence as he was once again swept into the sweet realm of Morpheus. The silence stretched for long minutes between the two adults, accentuated by the eerie stillness of the forest around them, for all animal life had scattered away, escaping from the fire, the ominous feeling of death and the oppressing sorrow of both men.

"What would you have me do?" he finally asked, his voice soft and his eyes still fixed on his godson.

"Come with me," was the simple answer that the vampire gave him, delivered in the same muted tones. This was followed by another, shorter moment of silence as Sirius contemplated the words.

"What about Pettigrew?" he inquired quietly.

"We can deal with him latter, I'm sure." This time the vampire tore his gaze from the child to give the young man a tired smile.

"I'm sure you can take care of Harry on your own..." began Sirius, clearly searching for an explanation for Vincent's adamant insistence than he accompanied the vampire.

"I cannot lawfully, by vampire law, take Harry under my wing if there is someone else entitled to his Guardianship, and you are," answered the redhead, easily reading his question.

"What about Lily's sister?"

"As she is my descendant, whether Harry stays with his aunt or I is my decision entirely."

"Family matters stay inside the family..." Sirius voice was so quietly it was but a breath. The end of his sentence twisted his inflexion into a question that Vincent answered with a nod and a hum of confirmation. After a pause, Sirius asked, "But where would we go? I probably _**am**_ a wanted man, after all."

This time the smile that the vampire offered him was stronger and it gave his eyes a malicious glint. "Why Sirius, isn't it obvious? My home in Japan."

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_A/N:_ That'd be the first chapter... I intended it to finish this differently, but stories usually have a will of their own. Before **anyone** comments on it and gets any ideas, Vincent is NOT the OC that will end up with Sirius. His relationship with him is of an entirely different nature that you will see in the next chapter.

With that said, thank you for reading, and please, if you will, review. Those little things do wonders to the muse.


	2. Two Brothers

**!EDITED!**_  
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_A/N:_ New chapter! This is really the beginning of the story, I hope you like it.

I was very pleased with the reception that the first chapter had. Nearly 100 hits in the first day mean a lot to me. There are three things that I look for in a book and two of them apply to fanfics. Cover design, title and summary/abstract: They do say "don't judge a book by its cover", but you also "get only one chance to make a good first impression", and that's crucial. If so many people read it, it means that at least a few of you were motivated by my summary, and that is a compliment in and of itself. But really, one review out of nearly 150 hits... please review. I cannot force you, and I will NOT hold my story hostage for reviews, but they actually motivate me to write. If it weren't for that one review, this chapter probably wouldn't be up this soon.

Some things I must clarify:

Vampires**: The vampire race portrayed in this story is a result of too much VanHellsing, Anne Rice, Hellsing and Vampire Knight, too many vampire fanfics (**TOO many!**) and a bit of help from Stephenie Meyer, but there's little from her cause I already had my type of vampire mostly created before I read her books. They're not your typical undead, and some of you may find it annoying that I changed and twisted the real vampire folklore, but I usually refer to racism in my stories, and they're the perfect way to make my criticism –they're considered beasts when they're not. So that's it. You'll get details about their characteristics and social and political structure as the story goes on.

Time-frame**: Everything Harry Potter has been moved to 2006, ten years after canon, because I've no idea how a teen's life was in the nineties. Sorry about that, but to be able to write a good story I need to know what I'm writing about to some extent.

Scene after last chapter**: after the events from last chapter I had plan to continue writing that scene and add another one, but that phrase by Vincent was just the perfect place to cut a chapter, so I left it there. The following scene is written, and mostly needs heavy-duty editing only, so it may appear as an anachronism in following chapters, for I like writing without chronological order.

_Disclaimer: Idem anterior._

_I forgot to mention this last chapter. This will be one fic for the whole story, not a one-book-for-a-year saga._

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**In the Heart of the Family**

Chapter 02: **Two brothers**

A soft groan rang through the otherwise silent, dark room as he slowly drifted back to consciousness after an unfortunately short day of restless sleep. A shiver ran down his spine for reasons that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room, which was pleasantly warm. At the same time he felt his chest tightened and ache, pulling at his heart. Another groan escaped his lips as he curled up under the covers and pulled them over his head, trying to fall back into blissful oblivion; but it wouldn't be. Soon, he resigned himself to rise to the new day or, more accurately, to the new night. Grumbling unintelligibly, he shoved the covers off his body with one brusque cutting semi-circular movement of his arms, until they were stretched alongside his body. He lay there on his back glaring darkly at the painted ceiling overhead until finally, he sat up and pulled himself out of the king sized bed. With a final effort, he stood and walked to the en-suite bathroom, rubbing his bleary eyes with the back of his hands, making the short path through his quarters by memory.

Said quarters were composed of a spacious bedroom, an obscenely large walk-in closet and an equally ostentatious bathroom. The bedroom was simply but stylishly decorated. Its wall were painted dull silver, the ceiling was a full painting of a hyper-realistic representation of the night southern sky done with latex and spray paint. The Via Lacteal ran across the room, following one diagonal, and the constellations were marked subtly with gray lines and name-tags. The floor was completely covered by a soft thick carpet, most of it light gray in colour. A fifteen inches wide, dark navy coloured band of carpet cut between the gray and the walls all around the room.

A larch door opened near the left corner of the room and served as entrance to the quarters. Down the same wall to the right, stood one imposing bookshelf that was two and a half meters long and nearly two meters tall. It stretched from midway down the wall to the near right corner, and bent in a straight angle, following the lines of construction and fusing with a heavy desk. This worktable was at least two feet deep, the front edge cut in a soft sinuous curve. Over the back of the table stood another shelf that made the whole structure as tall as the first one. The desk stood not on pillared legs, but on two thick boards. Both imposing pieces of furniture were made of the same dark wood as the door, with simple round corners and curving edges to alleviate the strict office-like feeling. The shelf over the desk was filled with books of all kind, and what connected it to the larger shelf served to house the growing collection. Tins and mugs on the desk table were the final destination of all pens, pencils and any other writing or desk-work related utensil. On top of the desk table lay two copybooks, one novel of some kind written in English, a cordless phone and a closed laptop computer.

The best part of the large bookcase was filled with vestiges of the earlier years of its owner's life, creating a disorganized timeline in their depths. Lego figures from the simplest miniature man to the most complicate and sophisticated car model occupied a whole level. Half of another was filled with wooden, plastic and metal models of cars and airplanes. The accompanying half of that level housed a small collection of photo frames that portrayed a young looking, red haired, red eyed man, another young looking adult, this one with black hair and pale blue eyes, and a child in varied stages of his life, recognizable always by his messy black hair and his emerald green eyes. At times they were shown on their own, at times with each other, and other pictures showed them accompanied by a variety of friends, relatives and acquaintances. Hidden in the angle with the desk at ground level were a pile of jigsaw-puzzle boxes; their labels a tribute to the passing of time as they ranged from one Mickey mouse with fat green letters announcing "150 pieces" to one beautiful picture of Versailles with "5000 pieces" written in bold orange letters. Next to them stood a line of folders, files, compilations in clear books, old and completely used notebooks and innumerable textbooks on the most varied subjects, ranging from world history to mathematics, from visual arts to physic and from enchantments to ancient runes, going through Latin, Greek and other ancient languages, transfigurations, theory of magic and potions in a variety of levels. They where the remnants of a life dedicated half of the time to study and half of the time to the simple and most innocent pleasures of childhood. Boxes cluttered with unknown trinkets and what-nots completed the collection worthy of a time capsule.

Against the far right corner at the back of the room, a queen size box spring lay on a low platform and supported an equally big mattress. The platform was painted pitch black, while the bed was covered by a thick, midnight blue bed spread with a design of printed silver letters printed over it, like a word search puzzle. A thick comforter and a set of white, blue and green striped sheets could be seen under the covers. Pushed against the corner of the wall was a pile of pillows of all sizes, shapes and colours. A flat, bright orange Jack-o-lantern-like one and a foot tall Snoopy plushie that had seen better days stood out from the messy pile. Between the bed and the desk there was a simple bedside table. It was made of the same wood as all other furniture in the room. It had three drawers, and a metallic desk lamp; a watch, a cell phone and a compact mp4 player with its headphones lay on it. The head of the bed was facing the wall to the left of the entrance door. In front of the bed against the wall there was a simple black metallic cabinet just a meter tall. A small hi-fi system and two of its small speakers were placed on top of it and, behind its closed doors were dozens of CD, DVD and some old cassettes and VHS records. The subwoofer accompanying the home stereo stood to the left of the cabinet, and three more speakers were screwed near the ceiling, at the three furthest corners. On the wall next to the bed hanged a huge painting that represented with striking hyper-realistic detail a sky view of modern Tokyo, done in acrylics. Behind the bed's head, a few posters of music bands were stuck on the wall surrounding two small square windows while a high-quality photograph of a huge concert nearly four feet long and three feet wide hanged over the stereo set. On the last empty space of wall, between the entrance door and the bookcase, hanged two katana, one wakizashi, an assortment of shuriken, dagger and knives and one imposing bow accompanied by a quibbler filled with arrows. Three bean bags and a very comfortable looking office chair next to the desk completed the room's decor.

In front of the entrance door was a floor-to-ceiling sliding glass door that right know was covered by thick curtains of midnight blue with silver edges in all its imposing four meters of width. Behind the curtains and past the glass door was a long balcony that went to the right as far as the room did, and to the left, past the wall of the room, ending under the bathroom window so it was over eight meter long.

On the wall to the left from the entrance door, between the corner and the stereo set, evenly spaced from one another, where two other larch doors, one larger than the other.

The larger of the two, near the stereo, went to the bathroom. Inside, the walls and floor were covered by large opaque tiles. Plain light gray ones covered the floor and slightly darker smoky gray ones went over the walls. Two bands of navy blue tiles, each four inches wide, ran around the middle of the room half a foot apart from each other. The far left corner was taken over by a triangular, winter white, whirlpool bathtub with dark wooden panels covering the sides instead of tiles. To the right, against the wall that faced the outside, were the sink counter, done in wood with a beige stone top, and the lavatory, of the same colour of the tub. Above them was one large, blurred window. Between the door and the sink was a waist tall dark steel shelf holding towels and, next to it, a very low stool similar to those found in hot-spring baths.

The door closest to the entrance to the bedroom gave access to the vast walk-in closet, big enough to house an austere bedroom. In there, hangers, cabinets and drawers kept a wide variety of attires save from abuse and dust. This collection included an assortment of yukata and kimono of varied formalities, fine, formal suits, semi-formal and informal attires, and casual clothes in humongous quantities. There were also wizard robes for all occasions, former school uniforms, gala vampire robes and formal Vampire Lord attires. Underwear, night clothes, jackets, coats and overcoats, cloaks and footwear completed the collection. The rooms lay out was simple. A comfortably wide hall lead straight to the back of the room and to a full body mirror with a beautiful, delicately carved rosewood frame. The wall to the left was one long hanger rail on its upper half and drawer after drawer at its lower half. The wall to the right had one square meter dedicated solely to footwear, more hanger rails, some more drawers, a shelf cabinet and, just off the door, there was an opening through it that went to the en-suite, closed by a sliding rice paper door.

Said door slid open with one sharp motion as the owner of the quarters walked into the closet while drying himself off with a fluffy white towel. He was the black haired, green eye boy found in the photographs in the bedroom, now a beautifully pale, nearly sixteen years old vampire. He stood at five feet eight his long, messy black hair falling limply past his shoulders. His emerald eyes seemed to shine with an ethereal light and his marble white skin gave off a barely imperceptible glow, reflecting the light in the room like a polished gem stone.

Suddenly, as he made his way to the back of the room, a violent shudder wracked his frame and forced him to stop, one arm reaching out instinctively to hold him upright. He stayed there immobile for one long minute, partially bent over with his left hand supported on his knee, waiting for the tremors to pass. When he was sure they had, he slowly straightened, rubbing his chest absentmindedly with his left hand. He slowly drifted from one corner of the room to the other, his eyes unseeing, staring off into the distance at something invisible, far beyond the limits of the closet. He mechanically dressed in dark blue jeans, a plain black long sleeved pull-over shirt and a graphite colour button-up shirt over it that he left open. As he went about his morning routine, he continued to rub and press his chest at the spot over his heart every now and then, a frown marring his brows.

A few minutes later he walked back into his bedroom, the towel draped over his shoulders to keep his wet hair from soaking his clothes, to find his room no longer empty. A tall vampire with black hair and pale blue eyes was kneeling before his music cabinet, half of his collection lying on the floor around the man's legs. Before he could make a sound, the man had pulled himself from the floor and rushed to stand in front of him in a matter of milliseconds, a suspicious smile pulling up his lips.

"Little bro!" he said, his enthusiastic tone that of someone with an ulterior motive. The fact that he had placed both hands on his shoulders with heavy slaps only served to heighten his suspicions. "Zephan, my dear brother, have you seen that Lord of the Rings soundtrack?"

"Sirius, you could've asked me **first**, before deciding to assault and desecrate my room," he answered ducking under his brother's arms and around him, making his way to the window. He gathered his hair over his right shoulder with the towel and started rubbing it dry with his right hand while his left opened the curtains to let the dusk light pool into the room. He stopped abruptly mid-motion as a disturbing thought crossed his mind. "Why the hell do you want that soundtrack?"

"Well, you see... Rowan's here, and the music's really good, and it gets you in all these moods..." began Sirius with a casual tone laced with mischief.

"SIRIUS!" shouted Zephan as he turned around sharply, dragging the curtain in his hand with him, glaring darkly at the smirking man. "I _**didn't**_ need the details."

"Why, you asked dear," drawled the taller of the two. The teen just huffed in exasperation and then turned back to open the curtains again, one hand travelling unheeded to his chest once again.

"Are you all right?" asked Sirius, a worried frown pulling at his features.

"Yeah" answered the younger vampire distractedly, still rubbing his chest while staring out the window.

"Liar," accused the pale eyed man. With two long strides he was standing behind the teen. He tenderly wrapped his arms around the boy's shoulders and pulled him to his chest. The teen allowed his head to drop against the man's left shoulder and a tired sigh escaped his lips.

"You gonna tell me what's wrong?" asked the older brother softly.

"It hurts," answered the younger brother softly and simply.

It seemed to be a sufficient explanation, for understanding flashed across the light blue eyes of the vampire before a low sigh passed his lips and his arms tightened around the youngster. A long moment of silence fell comfortably between them before any more words were uttered.

"Dad's gonna be back soon." His voice was soft and tender, meant to comfort the hurting child.

"He's never been gone this long," whispered the jade eyed teen, the pain filtering through his word for the first time.

"He worries about you. And he feels he ought to be with you after what happened at the beginning of last year," explained Sirius in the same soft tone as before. He then continued in a barely audible whisper, "He thinks you hold him at fault, and haven't forgiven him."

"What?" The question escaped his mouth with a gasp, sounding breathless. "But that's ridiculous. I mean, he was ambushed, it wasn't his fault..."

"Zeph, that doesn't matter to him," interrupted Sirius softly. "You nearly died that week and, to him, it's because he wasn't careful enough and allowed himself to be ambushed..."

"But that's absurd!"

"I know it, you know it, but he still feels that way. It's not logical, Zeph. It's a father's thing," explained the blue eyed man, hollow humour tinting his voice at the last statement.

Another silence descended upon them as both of them went over the implications of what had been said. It had been in Sirius' mind for some time now, but now that he voiced it, it actually sank in, and it worried him slightly –he knew neither Zephan nor him held their father at fault for that disaster last year. On the other hand, it was the first time such an idea was voiced to Zephan and it had never crossed his mind before. But it certainly explained many things about his dad's behaviour this last year. He invited Zephan to all functions and meetings he had to attend and, when Zephan couldn't or didn't want to go, he made sure to be back within a day -three at the very most, and he had only done so lately. He was extremely indulging to the point that, had he been younger, he probably would have ended up a spoilt child. But it was when it came to his wellbeing that is was especially noticeable. His father would fuss and worry so much whenever he said he felt unwell, that Zephan had come to avoid telling him that he felt anything but perfect, even if he didn't. He could now see what was moving his dad to act like that, and he could understand it to some extent. But that didn't mean it was right. Being treated like a crystal figurine when he wasn't one was certainly hindering his growth –this week was solid proof of that. Had his dad made sure to help the detachment process through the last year instead of hampering it, his absence probably wouldn't hurt as it did now. A talk with his father was in order, it seemed; as topmost priority.

Another sigh left his parted lips and he thought he had been doing that a lot this evening. His mussing was interrupted by a particularly painful and sharp pull at his heart, causing him to let out a low hiss and bent over slightly. He let go of the towel in favour of pressing both hands hard against his chest in an attempt to dull the pain. He shut his eyes tight and sagged precariously on his feet. When he felt the arms around him tighten, he allowed his weight to fall limply into his brother's arms. Without him noticing, Sirius moved them both to his bed and sat him on the older vampire's lap. He subconsciously shifted his position to curl up in his brother's embrace, shivering in pain against the strong chest. Sirius hummed soothingly, caressed his brother's hair and rocked him softly. When it seemed that his caresses weren't enough to abate the pain, he carefully lifted the teen so he could bury his face in the crook of the young vampire's neck. In that position, he allowed his fangs to elongate, and bit carefully into the delicate skin exposed. When two perfect punctures were opened, he pulled back just as carefully, and kissed the wounds to take in his mouth the black liquid flowing out of them. He hummed against the pale skin and sucked lightly, taking pleasure in the comfortable and warm feeling of belonging, of _**home**_, that sharing blood with family gave him, content with knowledge that his brother was feeling the same. Soon, he pulled away just enough to lick the wounds close. He then shifted their position once again, this time so his neck was exposed to Zephan, and he guided his brother to it. A moment later, the sharp pain of his skin being pierced registered at the edge of his mind, easily overpowered by the comforting lull of magic and warmth from the sharing. When both were satisfied, he lay down on the bed, pulling the vampire child with him so the youngster was lying on top of his chest. In that position, he continued humming and stroking his brother's hair, pushing the last of the tremors away.

"Better?" asked the tall, pale eyed man when the boy in his arms stopped trembling and was apparently able to hold his weight on his own again.

"Yes, thanks," answered the teen softly, rolling off the older man to lie on his back next to him.

"I need to talk to dad," Zephan commented after a pause.

"I'll be there if you want me to."

"No," answered the boy firmly. "Thanks, but this is something I must do on my own."

"I understand, and I think you're right. Dad has to see you've grown up and that he has to let you continue to grow, not keep you as a child. Just... be careful. Remember he's doing this because he's worried about you and feels that... well," he doubted for a moment before continuing, "he feels he failed you that day, and he doesn't know how to make it up to you."

"I think it's just him that needs to forgive himself," grumbled Zephan, a bit of annoyance permeating his voice.

"Too true," Sirius chuckled softly before they once again drifted into comfortable silence.

"How are things between Nicolás and you, little bro?" asked Sirius, turning his head to the right to look at Zephan curiously.

A sigh escaped Zephan before he answered. "As well as they can be."

"What do you mean? I've never seen you have any trouble."

Another sigh left the younger of the two, and Sirius frowned slightly.

"We've decided to break up," answered the emerald eyed vampire, and his voice was pained.

"What? But you love each other! That's plain as day!" protested the older vampire, noticeably upset by the announcement. The teen just groaned, and then turned to his left so he could bury his face in his brother's side.

"You know that Nicolás is leaving for his apprenticeship, and then we're leaving for England" began Zephan after the silence had stretched for a few minutes. "You see, that has been bothering us for quite some time now, so we went to talk to our psychology teacher from The Academy. She's always been our free-of-charge, most trusted councillor in just about everything, so we trusted her with our dilemma," he explained, his head now one his brother's shoulder. "And, well, we had four sessions where Cecilia forced us into deep introspection and then one more where we talked the matter over with her and later on our own, and we decided it was for the best," he ended resignedly.

"How can it be for the best when you'll be breaking up with your lover of five months?" asked Sirius, slightly outraged by the notion.

"Sirius, don't think this doesn't hurt Nicolás or I; don't you dare," retorted the teen fiercely, pushing himself up with his left hand, his eyes boring into his brother's. "It's probably the most painful decision I've ever made in my life, but we decided it was necessary as a couple, and we both can see it is, and why it is."

"It still doesn't make sense to me."

"Of course it doesn't. You've been with Rowan for over ten years; an apprenticeship wouldn't justify a break up." He rolled his eyes at his brother before lying back down on the bed. "On the other hand, Nicolás and I have been together for five months and two weeks; and we'll be parted for three years. No matter how much we love each other now, a five months old love won't hold for six times that long without reinforcement of any kind." He paused, lost in the memory of that last meeting with Cecilia. "'Being in love is to be continuously falling in love with one person. It's getting to know each new faucet of their personality that life brings up as you go through life with them. It means learning every day something new about them and learning to love it'; the Rowan you love today is not the same Rowan you fell in love with ten years ago, and neither of those are the same Rowan you loved four, or six or two years ago. People change, and in a relationship, you learn to love the different persons they become as life changes them. That won't happen if we're not together. Maybe now you can be apart from Rowan for three years and still love him after, and be sure that he will still love you after those three years, but not us. With a relationship just six months old that just won't work," he concluded, and the words seemed painful to say.

"Are you sure about this?" Sirius tone was concerned.

"In my mind, yes, I know it's necessary; I know it must be done. But in my heart, I don't want to. I wish I could just follow Nicolás in his apprenticeship. And still, knowing that I can't, knowing that I'm be leaving to a completely different and new place, a part of my heart also agrees –the part that loves Nicolás too much to risk hurting him with betrayal." His voice faded into a whisper and his hands were clutched into tight fists over his stomach. "I will be at least two years trapped in that godforsaken castle, in that godforsaken war, and I know I may fall for someone there. I can't risk that if I'm with Nicolas; I wouldn't be able to forgive myself. So, yes, it's necessary and it's what we we'll do."

Sirius was stunned into muteness, unable to do much but stare at his brother as the boy continued to search the depths of the painted sky above. It suddenly struck him that his brother was no longer a child in many ways and, in fact, was far more mature that many men far older than him. The decision he had just made with his boyfriend spoke of great maturity and depth of thought. In a way, it was evidence that Zephan and Nicolás would probably make a strong, long lasting if not lifelong couple, were they given the chance to develop and strengthen their bond as Zephan had just explained they'd need to. It saddened him to see his brother in such a troubling position, forced to make such a painful decision. And he had to admit that he would miss Nicolás. The boy had already wormed his way into his heart and had earned a place as part of their family. He was, after all, the one person who had made his little brother the happiest since he started dating. He sighed, resigned to the knowledge that the decision was theirs and that, painful as it were, they had made the right choice.

"About that godforsaken castle; the headmaster is coming tomorrow," he commented when he recovered his voice, pushing the depressing subject away.

"What?" Zephan shot up to a sitting position and stared at his brother, his eyes wide in disbelief, searching for some hint of a sick joke in Sirius eyes. When it became apparent that the older vampire was telling the truth, he fell back onto the bed with a resounding thump, followed by a suffering groan. "What does that old man want! Hasn't he bothered us enough?"

"He probably wants to make sure his little hero is going to Hogwarts for sure," answered Sirius causally.

"There's no doubt I'm going," the teen mumbled grumpily. "He has come at least three times with the most ridiculous and outrageous of excuses. I mean, I can certainly choose my subjects on my own, and I really didn't need a detailed explanation of the educational system in Great Britain or the inner workings of Hogwarts, or an introduction to Wizard's Britain. I'm sure no other new kid gets such a deferential treatment."

"He's probably thinking along the lines of how to get you to like him and maybe even get you indebted to him so he can make you his perfect little trump card." Sirius tone was eerily casual for such a serious accusation.

"Whatever, it's still annoying. He may have good intentions, but we all know those pave the road to hell; and he seems to forget people have minds of their own, and that they're not cards or pieces to play in a game –be it for the greater good or not. And, he forgets I have other priorities. England is certainly not at the top of my list." He glared moodily at the Southern Cross.

"Whatever your opinion about him is, you still have to deal with him tomorrow," said Sirius pragmatically.

"I know, I know..." grumbled Zephan darkly. "Wait- tomorrow?"

"Yes, why?" asked the pale eyed vampire turning his head to look at the younger one with a raised eyebrow.

"You mean tomorrow, tonight –as in past midnight-, or tomorrow, tomorrow –as in tomorrow morning?" He was once again propped on his left elbow, his piercing emerald gaze fervently wishing for Sirius' answer to be the first one. But apparently he was out of luck today.

"Tomorrow as in tomorrow morning. At half past ten, actually." Sirius patted Zephan's hand empathically.

"Ugh! Have they no consideration for other people's needs?" He grouchily slumped down on the bed once again and covered his eyes with one arm in a suffering manner.

"It _is_ usual for humans to forget that others are different to them," he said matter-of-factly.

"Typical. Just typical for them to forget, or worse, not to know we're nocturnes." He waived his arms around to emphasize his displeasure.

"Be glad you won't have to play the gracious host. You're a teen so you can be as grumpy as you wish. I, on the other hand, have to smile and be all nice and courteous no matter what, as I am, in face of dad's and everyone else's absence, the head of the house." He sounded as enthusiastic as his brother at the prospect.

"Lucky me," Zephan began sarcastically. "Yeah, right. I'll have to be as nice and gracious as you, or we risk Anne's fury. You know how she is about etiquette and adequate behaviour and all that."

"Yep, 'never let it be said that the Stephanos are not the most courteous of hosts or guests'," said Sirius imitating Anne's strict tone to perfection. Both dissolved into soft chuckles, taking amused pleasure in the memory of their sister and her strict etiquette lessons. Their laughter then faded into silence, calm and companiable.

"So, where's that drow boyfriend of yours?" asked the teenage vampire to his brother out of simple curiosity.

"Having breakfast, I think," the young adult answered distractedly, his eyes fixed on the artful decoration of the ceiling.

"As a matter of fact, that 'drow boyfriend' is here," a rich, cultured voice in slightly accented English replied from the doorway.

There, leaning against the doorframe, was one of the most exotic-looking beings found in the sentient realm. He was tall, probably three or four inches over six feet, he had vibrant violet eyes, shimmering, silk-like black skin and beautiful, straight, silvery white hair that right now he carried loose. It fell following the curve of his shoulders elegantly to his mid-back, where it was cut in a round edge. He was dress casually in an olive green button-up shirt and loose light gray trousers. He wore a white undershirt that could be seen through the opening left by the two topmost buttons of his shirt that were undone, and he went barefoot. He was of strong built, broad shoulders and aristocrat features, with high cheekbones, a sharp jaw line, a high brow and deep eyes. His fingers and toes ended in sharp claw-like nails as black as his skin and behind his amused smirk hid a row of sharp teeth characteristic of his solely carnivorous diet. He was a drow, a dark elf.

The man glided swiftly through the room towards the bed and leaned forward, pulling one knee on top of the mattress for support as he lowered himself over the pale eyed vampire. Said man readily accepted the intrusion and wrapped his arms around the dark skinned man's neck, pulling him down. The elf put both his hands at the sides of the vampire's head to hold himself up, and then laid his weight carefully on the smaller man. Their mouths met in a passionate kiss and their tongues linked them together in a tender caress as they embraced each other. The youngest occupant of the room just rolled his eyes at the scene and their complete disregard of his presence before he fixed his eyes on the Orion belt overhead.

"If you have some freaky fetish of having sex in your younger brother's bedroom, please leave this room now," he droned like a call centre operator when he judged he had given them a reasonable amount of time to reacquaintance themselves with each other after being parted for breakfast.

"Oh, shut up. I'm sure this room and this bed have seen much higher-rating material," objected Sirius, effectively separating himself from his boyfriend, while the drow was content to lie down at his vampire companion's left with a satisfied smirk.

"Yes, but that would've been my boyfriend and _I_ in _my_ bedroom, not your boyfriend and _you_ in _my_ bedroom!" countered the young vampire, slightly scandalized by the notion. Next to the vampires, the dark elf laughed heartily at the brothers' antics.

"Hey, Zeph," greeted the draw after he got his laughter under control.

"Hey, Rowan," answered Zephan. "Are you indulging my brother in his nocturnal habits?"

"I'm as nocturnal as they get, Zeph," answered the drow with an amused chuckle. The young vampire just rolled his eyes, both knowing he hadn't meant the words literally.

"Anyway, do try not to make sex in my bedroom, ok?" he asked as if commenting about food or the weather.

"Alright, we'll try to refrain," conceded Rowan with a smirk.

"Ew! You **do **know that implies you _have_ had sex in my bedroom?" asked the teen after only a moment's thought, but it was enough to make Rowan's smirk broaden into a full grin. The young vampire realized belatedly that it was exactly was the drow had wanted to say. He groaned in disgust at the mental images that Rowan's grin elicited, and in sincere disappointment at his naivety.

"Where's Vincent?" inquired Rowan after a moment of silence in which they all lay on their back staring at the night sky.

"Playing ambassador in Saudi Arabia," both vampires droned, clearly unhappy with the situation.

"When is he coming back?"

"In two days. Why?" asked Zephan as he rose from his bed and made his way to his closet, picking up the wet towel from the floor as he walked.

"My father wants to speak with yours," answered the elf as his companion curled up against his side, wrapping his arms around his midsection.

"I'll tell him if you don't see him first," offered the teen vampire from the inside of his closet from where he picked up a pair of white and blue Adidas Originals and a dark gray cotton zip-up sweater.

"Thanks." The drow then turned to nuzzle the crown of his lover's head with his nose, breathing in the enticing sent.

It was in that position that Zephan found them when he stepped back into his bedroom. He dismissed them with a roll of his eyes and a shake of his head and strode purposefully to his bedside table. He picked up his silver and black watch and latched it in place around his left wrist with a practiced motion and tucked his cell phone and his mp4 player into his jeans' side pockets. Then, he opened the first drawer from where he picked up a set of keys that also went to one of his side pockets and a wallet that he slipped into a back pocket of his trousers.

"I'm hungry, and in the mood for a hunt. I'll be meeting with Nicolás later," he said as he loaded his possessions on his person.

"Alright," was Sirius mumbled reply.

"Please pick up that mess, Sirius," he asked as he walked past them.

"Ok, ok," conceded the older vampire as he reluctantly pulled away from his lover and rose to his feet.

"Bye bro," said Zephan after he pushed the windows open to let in the cool summer night breeze.

"Yeah... Bye squirt," answered Sirius before he pulled the teen into a quick hug and ruffled his hair roughly. Zephan just offered a cursory complain, actually liking the close contact. They quickly parted and then the teen offered his hand to Rowan, who clasped it firmly.

"See you later guys," he called as he made his way out of his bedroom. He paused at the threshold as a thought crossed his mind.

"Oh, and please, don't have sex in my bedroom. I mean it."

The rich laughter of the couple followed him all the way down the hall and out of the manor.

* * *

_A/N:_ and **this** is what you call a teaser! You get glimpses at too many thing and no explanations at all. MUAHAHAHAHAHA I'm evil, yes. I know it, and I love it.

YES! Sirius and Harry are brothers. And Vincent is their father. And Harry's called Zephan. See, no love-love between Vincent and Sirius. Now, there IS love-love between Sirius and Rowan. They're cute, I like them. You **will** learn about how Sirius ended up as a vampire, and how he ended with Rowan and all that... sometime later. And yes, Harry has a boyfriend. You will also learn about Harry's love life later, I've already planned when that will happen.

Now, BEFORE you complain, the summary says CDHP **to be**, it never implies that Harry is never in any other relationship. Actually, that one relationship for life thing is one of the things I hate about the Harry Potter saga. I know it's possible... everything's possible, but it's NOT usual, so it's most certainly improbable, virtually _**impossible**_, that EVERYONE in HP will meet the love of their lives at practically their first date **in school**... so here Harry has gone through several relationships, and more will come before he establishes with Cedric. Do not worry, Cedric **is** Harry's main pairing in this fic.

Now, for those who are thinking "how the hell is Cedric alive", Harry was not in Hogwarts, I'm sure you noticed, so the plan involving the tri-wizard tournament was never executed, and therefore Cedric never took a portkey with Harry that accidentally took him to Voldemort and to his death, so he is alive. And for those who are asking themselves "how are they going to meet if Cedric should have left Hogwarts already?" I'm benefiting from the plot hole I created by keeping Cedric alive, so you'll just have to wait and see.

See ya next chapter!


	3. One Night in the House

**!EDITED!**

A/N: I'm incredibly sorry this took so long, but as it's my last year in school, schoolwork has become all consuming and life-absorbing; that is, I've barely had time for myself in the last month. This should've been up eons ago, but life's a bitch, as they say.

OK... I'm amazed, and much happier with the reception that the second chapter had, compared to the first. It doubled the last one in visitors but, more importantly, it had more reviews. It may have been only four reviews, but the people who reviewed the second chapter were people who actually took the time to comment on my A/N's and my writing in much more depth than the usual "update soon please!" comment. It's not as if I don't value those reviews, any review is much more than most people do (myself included). But reviews with real critical value are priceless; they're the best reward I could get for all the hard work I put into this. So, my deepest and most sincere thanks to you guys.

Moving on, one point I missed last chapter.

**M-rating**:** This storied is M-rated for many reasons. Among them are: sexual content, unethical behaviour and violence. Many people, when they see a story rated M think "Ok, some sex" or "double-X or triple-X content, alright", but the thing is, that's not it. If it were so, this would be in adult fanfiction and in a "playgirl section" or something like that. This story is rated M not only because it deals with "adult themes," as the euphemism goes, but because, whether you are sixteen or sixty, if you are not _mature_ enough, as the rating implies, this story is not for you. I may be young, but I write with no reservations, going as far as my limited experience and my wild imagination allow me. You will find here not only sex, not only some violent, gory scenes, but both the best and the worst of human kind portrayed in the different characters. I will not just mention war, death, murder, genocide, and siege and famish; you will see people killing for pleasure, people being raped, hatred, prejudice, discrimination and charisma twisting the mind of people, adults and children alike. Basically, this is rated M because I will not control the content, I will not omit or obviate, and I will not be moral or ethic in my writing. I'll be real, and it's up to you to know what's right and wrong, what's me and what's the story, what position to take in whatever ethic debate I propose, and so on. In this story, I don't need you to be knowledgeable or intelligent or whatever; I need you to be open minded, analytic and mature. It is up to you to place your own limits, for I will not announce sex scenes, violent scenes, or controversial debate scenes, for those ARE the story. No one will know if you decide you don't feel you're ready for this story, unless you tell them, and no one will think less of you if you decide you're not –actually, probably many people (I first and foremost) will think you're much more mature than all those little kids that read M rated to make themselves believe they're "cool" or whatever. I'm not trying to dissuade you from reading; I'm giving the full, proper warning that this story must have. **PLEASE** think about it and choose as you see fit, no one can force you to do otherwise.

* * *

**In the Heart of the Family**

Chapter 03: **One Night in the House**

The lights flashed across the dark room filled with dancing figures. Fast paced, rhythmic music resonated through the room. The walls and floor vibrated with the beat together with the sinuous and provocative movements of the dancers. Beams, lasers and flashes travelled through and over the crowd, crisscrossing the air with intricate patterns in bright colours. The music drifted and one song overlapped another. Hoots, catcalls and shouts of excitement erupted from the mass of swaying bodies, soon followed by the loud voices of the multitude chorusing the song at the top of their lungs. The throng moved as one shapeless being. They danced in couples, in groups, press together until the closeness, the euphoria and intoxication, endorphins, alcohol and drugs dispelled all inhibitions and reservations.

In a particularly dark corner, out of the reach of the lights, one couple danced sensuously and slowly, oblivious to the fast pace of the music. Within the intimacy of the shadows were two boys standing close to one another, more so than the other couples in the room. With their chests pressed together, the shorter of the two with his head resting on his companion's shoulder, they swayed, twirled and turned in the ample space available to them. With flawless grace and elegance the couple glided over the dance floor drawing intricate patterns, their performance awe inspiring and their image breathtaking. They moved in perfect synchrony, complementing each other perfectly as they danced to the rhythm of a private, secret melody. Both dancers were completely at ease in each other's arms. They weren't aiming to seduce, but to please, to provoke and be provoked, to sensuously and sensually elate their companion for both his and their own satisfaction. Their dance wasn't sexy or sexual; it was intimate, profound. It went much farther than skin or groin deep; it was filled with intense emotions that surged from deep within their souls, overflowed their spirits, overloaded their senses, glowed through their eyes and rang in their every step. For long minutes they danced until theirs slow, unheard tango faded to a lull, and they were content to just hold each other, swaying slowly from side to side to the sound of their music.

It was then obvious that their dancing skills weren't the only breathtaking quality to them. Both were ethereal, bearers of an unearthly beauty that seemed to make them glow and surrounded them in an invisible halo proper to the divine. They were surreal, otherworldly, out of place in such a mundane crowd, and their exotic features only served to place them closer to the deity and further away from the mortal world.

The tallest of the two was exotic incarnate, as only drows can be. He was fairly tall, close to five feet eleven (1.79 m), his spiked hair was pure, threaded silver, and his skin was like black silk. But it was his eyes that stood out the most. His irises were a kaleidoscope of glittering quartz, amethysts and ambers on a translucent black background. Their gaze was eerie, mesmerizing and unsettling, their translucent depths a labyrinth where one could lose themselves for eternity. His features, still not mature but closed to definition, suggested the young age of eighteen. In his overall oval face, his defined, triangular jaw and his straight eyebrows gave it a sharp, mature appearance, but his almond shaped eyes, his flawless skin and his easy smile imprinted youth to his facade. His casual attire composed by a simple stone blue button-up shirt and faded black denims only server to enhance his foreign features.

The other boy was his chromatic opposite. Standing at one-seventy five, the drow's vampire companion had ivory white skin that shimmered eerily and beautifully under the faint light, and long straight obsidian black hair that hanged loose. It reached between his shoulder blades and was cut layered so it spiked messily around his head and snaked down his back from the base of his skull. His irises were two perfectly round, perfectly polished and perfectly pure emeralds. He was young, not quite sixteen, but his profile was already morphing into adulthood. His face held little of its childhood roundness thanks to the straight lines of his nose and jaw, but his thin arched eyebrows and the mischievous glint in his eyes anchored him to youth. Dressed in blue jeans and a black pullover shirt under an open graphite button-up shirt, Zephan Stephanos held loosely to his lover as they swept over the dance floor.

Their music shifted once again, and so did their dance. It became heated. They swayed sensuously against each other as their hands roamed over the well known plains and crevasses of their lover's body. With one arm the dark elf pulled the vampire's waist towards him, clashing their hips together, while his other hand tangled in the younger boy's hair. The vampire easily shifted to accommodate the hot yearning of his boyfriend and wrapped his arms around the drow's neck, one hand tangling in the short spikes of his lover's silver hair. Soon, their mouths joined in a passionate kiss. Tongues pushed and caressed while their bodies grinded against one another and their hands travelled over intimate paths, touching just at the right places to elicit delightful shivers and delectable moans of pleasure and longing. The couple moved rhythmically to their private tune in a dance as old as life, teasing and pleasing as they twirled in the dark. The pale teen arched his back and dropped his head backwards, held upright solely by his lover's arm. His companion descended greedily upon the exposed neck to bite and suck and kiss a trail up the long and winding road that went from his collar bone to his mouth. Their tongues tangled once again and, so bound, they pulled themselves upright. When they parted, the pale lips of the vampire descended upon the drow's neck, leaving a trail of butterfly kissed behind. There, he returned the favour eagerly, relishing in the sweet taste of the silky skin under his lips while he slowly pushed him against a wall. The young drow's mind didn't have time to register the fact that his back had slammed against the padded wall before two long sharp fangs broke through the delicate skin at the crook of his neck and sank deep into his flesh. Neither did the pain last long in his mind for soon the fangs pulled away and the soft lips around them sucked fervently at the two punctures, sending jolts of pleasure down his spine. The lovers melted into their embrace, held upright only by the solid wall behind them. A mouthful pooled in the vampire's mouth. He swallowed it, and waves of ecstasy, of heated pleasure swarmed his body and the drow's. Each drop of blood sent them into new levels of pleasure, into a new heaven until, finally, fulfilment. Moans and cries of passionate bliss were absorbed by the thundering music while they shook and shivered under the intense emotions and feelings overloading their senses. Their gaze exploded into white as satisfaction ran its course their body. Finally, they slumped against the wall fully spent, Zephan licking Nicolás' neck tenderly.

"Do you mind if I go for one last prey?" asked the young vampire at long last, his arms held loosely around the teen drow still resting against the wall-hangings.

"Wasn't my blood enough?" Nicolás said, sounding deeply offended, but wearing a smirk that betrayed his real feelings.

"Not really. I mean, you've got nothing on sweet human blood," answered Zephan, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"I resent that," the drow said deadpanned.

"Oh, please, are you comparing yourself to food?" inquired the black haired boy with a bemused smirk and a raised eyebrow.

"Not at all," said Nicolás between kisses "you just left me all hot and horny here, and I'd like to get more of you- _Now_." His lips fluttered over his lover's neck and face, finishing with a deep kiss on the lips.

"Don't worry, love, I'm sure Takeru will let us use one of the rooms upstairs. But right now, I'm starving and you don't want a weak, starved vampire in bed, now, do you?" asked the emerald eyed teen, his tone between teasing and suggestive.

"I don't like how you hunt," grumbled the amethyst-and-amber eyed drow tightening his arms around his boyfriend.

"Now, now, one has to use the tools available to oneself. That I happen to be dead gorgeous is not my fault, love," chastised the vampire lightly with an amused smile pulling at his lips. He then kissed away the childish pout in his lover's lips and slipped out of his grasp to blend in the crows of dancing figures, swaying his hips ever so slightly in a way that he knew would turn his partner on.

Making his way idly through the stylishly dressed youth attending one of the most exclusive, high-class dancing clubs in Tokyo at its opening summer-season party, he swept his gaze over the hundreds of faces, looking for just the right prey. He could feel the gazes of many on his back as he walked past them, but he paid them no heed, and allowed his instincts to guide him. Too many of them were drank, and he hates how that makes him drank, when, were he to drink, few things would get him beyond tipsy. He walked on, leaving lust, heartbreak and envy at his wake until, finally, he saw him. He was a cute boy, the kind all girls swoon over and squeal at, with a boyish look to his small body and round face that didn't suit the impious glint in his chocolate brown eyes as he leaned against the bar.

'_He's quite cute,'_ he thought as a decidedly hungry smirk pulled up the corners of his mouth and he sauntered towards his chosen victim. _'And there's not a drop of alcohol in his veins. Perfect.'_

With strong, calculated strides he covered the distance between them in seconds, making sure the boy saw him approaching and exuding all the vampire allure he could muster. The coffee coloured gaze of the brunette boy was drawn to the vampire's pale, godlike beauty the moment the supernatural being fixed his eyes on him. His hypnotized eyes remained fixed on Zephan as he made his way to the bar, the human wholly ensnared by the stunning splendour of the vampire. Before his mind could understand what was happening, the human boy pushed himself off the barstool and walked towards the pale immortal, closing the small gap between them. The grin in the vampire's face accentuated. He then pulled the boy into his arms and pressed him against his chest while sending a triumphant smirk to the bartender who had watched the exchange with a raised eyebrow and an amused, knowing smile. He led the younger looking boy into the dance floor and towards the darker side near his boyfriend, so that the drow could watch, for his lover _did_ like how he hunted. He knew his lover had this thing for watching him feed off other teenage boys; a kind of fetish that he didn't mind indulging him in. Once in Nicolás' field of vision in their private dark corner, he let go of the boy's waist and grabbed his hand, guiding him through a couple of twirls and then pulling him close just as the music turned slow and sensual.

The rhythmic beating of the boy's heart was tantalizing, just so tempting, but he had to get the teen comfortable, for his accelerated heart rate was quite unappetizing. Slowly, as their dance stretched and drew to a close and then shifted to the beginning of a new song, the young human relaxed in his embrace. At last the time was right. It was that precise moment when, he knew, the boy found himself in the unsettling dichotomy of an eternal peace of mind and a desperate yearning of the soul, a sensation he had experienced and treasured in his time as human. When the teen was relaxed, his blood flooded with endorphins, he carefully shifted them to get access to his neck, and bit. The sharp, metallic taste of blood flooded his mouth and sent a delicious shiver down his spine. In the back of his mind, in the part of his consciousness not taken over by the warm bliss he found himself in, he thought that the crimson pleasure flowing down his throat easily compared to the former human pleasure of the most fine and sweetest of chocolates slowly melting between his tongue and palate. The dark scarlet liquid pooled around his fangs and tongue and whirled within the walls of his mouth, overloading his every taste bud with liquid heaven. Mouthful after mouthful swirled in his mouth and down his throat until he was satiated at last. He carefully licked the punctures closed and then pulled back, the slight body falling limply into his arms, a peaceful smile on the now pale lips of the brunette.

As he was making his way to a door at the back of the room hidden behind the black drapes with the unconscious human in his arms, he felt a pair of strong familiar arms wrap themselves around his waist. The warm black lips of his lover pressed themselves against his neck and sucked and kissed a trail to his ear where sharp, ivory teeth bit tenderly at his earlobe. A shiver ran down his spine and he smirked, eager to get to one of the private quarters upstairs.

* * *

"You should've seen him! It was priceless! He was so flustered and worried and just made it worse. And she was just so embarrassed!" a young, golden haired and amber eyed werewolf girl exclaimed excitedly before dissolving into peals of laughter.

"Oh, shut up! I don't see what's so funny," grumbled a chestnut brown haired, black eyed vampire boy.

"Of course you don't. You tripped the poor girl you were flirting with!" another girl, this one a beautiful light elf with light blue eyes and hair in al shades of brown, managed to breathe her words between her squeals and shrieks of laughter.

"Had a bad day?" asked Zephan with a raised eyebrow and an amused smile playing at his lips as he stepped out of his closet and walked to his bed, where he dropped unceremoniously.

"Bite me," growled the other vampire grumpily while throwing a huge pillow at the emerald eyed teen.

"No, thanks, I already ate," answered the dark haired boy while deftly catching the pillow with his left hand, never missing a beat.

"Ugh! One would think a man would get at **least** some support from his best mate, but _no_, he might as well go to his enemies," bemoaned the obsidian eyed vampire from his place in one of the huge bean bags littered around the room.

"C'mon, Luc! You're being way too melodramatic." Said a third girl –a drow with soft lilac eyes, curly white hair and porcelain black skin– her laughing voice travelling through the room like the chiming of crystal bells. She was lying across the bed, her long musician finger playing absently with Zephan's long ponytail.

"Now, girls, let him be. He needs to plan how to drench the girl the next time," interjected Nicolás with a fake appeasing tone that was followed by a deep growl from the black eyed vampire and the roaring laughter from everyone else.

"So... how have you guys been doing?" asked Zephan after everyone managed to get their laughter under control.

"Physics a bitch," answered both the werewolf girl and the other vampire male deadpanned.

"Oh, right! You're both in medicine school. How's that?" enquired the elf girl animatedly.

"Pretty cool," began the vampire. He then added casually, "Rhiannon, as always, is at the top of the class", to which the werewolf answered with just a roll of her eyes

"Anatomy's great. We get to work with bodies an all of that. Bioethics' ok, if a bit lame at times, but I like the debates that come up. I wish I could skip physics, though. It's the same content we saw in the last two years of the Academy," answered Rhiannon congenially.

"**And** basics of biology; we already went through that too," added the vampire as he shifted to a lotus position on the bean bag.

"Sounds nice. You like it much?" asked the lilac eyed girl.

"Yep! The teachers are great, and everyone's really nice, and really, some things are just amazing. And you should see Lucien in bioethics, he runs everyone to the ground in any and every discussion" answered the amber eyed girl enthusiastically.

"Not really, they just don't know how to debate," mumbled the black eyed teen slightly embarrassed.

"_Sure_. And you didn't win every debate contest back in the Academy," drawled the green eyed vampire while rolling his eyes. He then asked, "You guys staying for the day?"

Glances were exchanged between all other occupants of the room before nods were shared and the blue eyed she-elf answered for them all.

"Sure, why not."

"'Cause I have to attend to some visitors after ten today," explained the youngest of the teens, also the owner of the room.

"At ten?" asked Nicolás sceptically.

"Worse, ten thirty. It's those humans from the Scottish school," grumbled Zephan sulkily.

"Of _course_ it'd be humans who'd schedule a visit to a vampire household at ten in the morning. Trust them to be capable of being discriminatory, disrespectful and ignorant in _one_ simple act," said the female drow irritably, punctuating her words with sharp movement of her hands and arms and irritated huffs.

"Kiran, you're ranting," pointed out Rhiannon matter-of-factly.

"I know, but that's not the point. The point it they were disrespectful, outright insulting by imposing the time of their visit –they must've imposed 'cause, if they had asked, Zephan or someone would've changed the time. And not only that! They also chose a time well into daytime, completely disregarding the fact that their hosts are vampires and as such, nocturnes. And that is even ruder," Kiran raged on heatedly.

"My thoughts the same," droned the emerald eyed teen glaring sullenly at the wall.

"And you're still going to allow them in?" asked the white haired girl incredulous.

"They're probably here already. I can't lower myself to their state and be as impertinent as they were, so I have to," answered the black haired vampire with a shrug.

"Always so gracious, darling," commented the blue eyed elf with a beatific voice and smile veiled by cynicism.

"Of course, my dear," answered the jade eyed vampire equally genial. Their exchange was followed by mirthful chuckles from all present.

"Alice, when are you leaving for Istanbul?" said Nicolás to the dark haired she-elf after their chuckles had dissolved into silence.

"In august, to get settled before the term starts," she replied as she sat up on her bean bag, her eyes filled with excitement. "I'm just so happy! I can't wait for august to come around so I can leave- Oh, gods, I'm sorry!" she interrupted herself as she brought up her hands to cover her mouth and paled abruptly. "Guys, I'm so sorry," she mumbled, torn between avoiding everyone's gaze and staring horrified and apologetically at the couple on the bed while the atmosphere in the room shifted from cheerful to uncomfortable.

"Don't worry, we're... we're getting over it," Zephan tried to reassure her, but his tone was uncertain while his hand searched blindly for Nicolás'.

The group fell into an uncomfortable silence that stretched until Rhiannon stood up.

"I don't know about you Ali, but I'm about to drop here. You don't mind if I use a bedroom, Zeph?"

"Not at all. And anyways, you're practically residents here, so your rooms always ready," he said with a smile that was a bit tight at the edges.

"Thanks. You coming, Ali?" Rhiannon turned to the still fidgeting elf cocking her head to the side slightly.

"Yeah, thanks," she whispered distractedly, but didn't move from her place.

"You're worrying so much, Alice," began Nicolás softly. "That we're not happy that august is coming doesn't mean you can't be happy about it. I mean, you're going to Istanbul!"

She was startled by his words and stared wide eyed at the drow boy for long moments mulling over his words until at last a slow, gentle smile crept over her features.

"Thanks, Nico, it means a lot."

"It's ok, Ali. Now, go to bed before you drop unconscious in my bedroom floor," said Zephan teasingly, doing shooing motions with his hands.

"Alright, I'm going," Alice chuckled amusedly. She pushed herself up and then walked over to the bed and climbed on it. There, she pulled Nicolás, who was seating against the back wall, into a tight hug and then pressed two kisses onto his cheeks. She then grabbed Zephan's arm, forced him to a sitting position, and coddled him just as she had done his boyfriend.

"Thanks, Zeph," she whispered quietly into his ear before pulling back and giving him a wide smile. She then turned to Kiran and gave her a kiss on one cheek followed by a 'good night', before dropping off the bed and kneeling on the floor to give the same goodbye to Lucien. Behind her, Rhiannon gave that same goodbye to the four nocturnal occupants of the room.

Just as Rhiannon was reaching for the doorknob, it turned on its own and the door swung open. Standing at the other side was the tall and pale figure of Sirius Stephanos.

"Hey Sirius," chorused both diurnal girls.

"Hello Ali, Rhee," he greeted back while stepping into the room. "How're you doing?"

"Fine."

"Well," they said, their answers overlapping.

"We were going to bed now," continued Rhiannon.

"Are you staying?"

"Yes. I hope we're not imposing," Alice trailed off.

"Of course not, you're always welcome here."

"Thanks" they both replied.

"Well, good night Sirius, it's good to see you well," said Alice as she turned to the door.

"Yeah, hope to see you tomorrow," added Rhiannon as she followed her friend out of the room.

"Good night girls, sleep well," he answered.

"Thanks. Good night to you too. Bye," they called out in tandem before the door closed behind them.

"So... why are you here?" Zephan asked his brother. "Not for the LotR soundtrack, I hope."

"Nope, we found it," answered Sirius with an impish grin.

"Not here?" asked the younger brother with dread.

"Doesn't mean we couldn't have moved back here later," commented the pale eyed man casually, his grin turning outright devious.

"You! – That's revolting Sirius," said the green eyed teen, his face contorted by disgust. It made Sirius lose what little control he had over his expression and he burst out in uncontrollable laughter.

"I just know that there's a story behind that," stated Lucien as he exchanged glances with Nicolás, who was smiling bemusedly at the byplay of the brothers while Kiran blushed fiercely, staring wide eyed at Sirius.

"You don't want to know, Luc, you really don't," interjected Zephan stalling any possible questions while he shook his head, trying to dissipate the mental images. He then turned to his brother, who had dropped, still breathing hard, across his bed. "So, why are you really here?"

"Casper and Darius called," Sirius replied, propping up on his elbows.

"Really? How are they? Are they coming? It's been so long since the last time we saw them." The visibly excited young vampire fired the questions in rapid succession, eager to know more about the two men.

"They're well. Visiting Moscow right know. They called, I quote, 'to inform us that, whether we like it or not, they're dropping by this Monday to stay for five months'. I think they like to believe they are imposing and ordering us around," commented the pale eyed vampire with a thoughtful frown, that morphed into a pleased smile when soft chuckled lighted his brother's face.

"Yeah... right. We both know the truth is they can't live without us," he said with a knowing smirk planted on his face that was soon mirrored by his brother. They held each other's stare for a grand total of five seconds before losing all composure and dissolving into joyous laughter.

"Who's Casper and Darius?" asked Kiran after the vampire brothers had recovered their breath.

"You haven't met them?" asked Lucien sincerely surprised by the fact, but his question was drowned by Sirius answer.

"They're our older brothers. They're actually biological brothers that dad adopted some centuries ago when he lived in Arabia –they were orphaned really young, and dad was a close friend of their parents. They're inseparable, kinda stuck in their twenties maturity-wise, and so alike that there's no way you wouldn't think they're monocigotic twins by just looking at them. As it is, Casper is three years older than Darius."

"They sound like fun," commented the one girl in the room lightly.

"They are! They've spent most of my life travelling around the world and every time they visit they bring all kinds of trinkets and treasures back home," answered Zephan enthusiastically.

"You really love your brothers," said Nicolás in a soft, caressing tone as his eyes looked lovingly at his boyfriend.

"Yes," answered Zephan softly, turning his sparkling green eyes to his lover. His voice was tender and loving when he spoke. "They're always nice, and have always cared for me. They're never overbearing when they try to make up for their absence. They're always so cheerful; they make the house feel different, lighter. And they're family, it always makes me feel better when they're here; and I know they love us, so I can't help but reciprocate. Dad's always so happy when they all come too... he smiles for real nearly all the time when the whole family gets together, so I really look forward to their visits. They just exude happiness, it's contagious" he finished with a lopsided grin.

"I'm glad," whispered Nicolás breathlessly, mesmerized by the intense emotions that swirled in his lovers eyes. Unable to resist the urge, he swiftly caught his lover's left wrist with one hand and pulled him close before wrapping his other arm around his waist and kissing him deeply on the lips. His impulsive actions earned him a startled cry from his vampire partner that was muffled by his lips, followed by the vampire's lips eager return of the favour. Behind them, a cacophony of cat calls and wolf whistles rose from the other occupants of the room that soon turned into outraged cries about rooms and motels. He smirked into the kiss at those comment and he felt Zephan's lips do the same against his. They deepened their caress just enough to receive disgusted groans from their friends before they parted, sharing a smirk that conveyed both pleasure and smug, mischievous satisfaction. They shared soft chuckles of amusement as they looked at their friends to find them averting their gazes and both Sirius and Lucien gagging exaggeratedly while Kiran blushed madly. Their chuckles grew into outright laughter when both gagging men turned to them and blushed embarrassedly. This earned them a set of pillows in their faces that soon turned into a full blown pillow melee fight.

* * *

He groaned softly in protest when he felt a hand shaking his shoulder.

He was lying on his bed over the covers, his head resting comfortably on his lover's chest. A fluffy blanket lay over their fully clothed figures curled up at the head of the bed, surrounded by pillows, while two other blankets covered Kiran and Lucien, who lay sprawled across the middle and foot of the bed.

He groaned again when the insistent shaking wouldn't leave, and he clumsily tried to batter the offending hand off his shoulder with no luck. He was comfortable, he was tired, sleepy, and it was daytime. He didn't want to get up.

"Come on, it's a quarter past ten already," he heard his brother's voice whisper softly into his ear and the hand continued to shake him.

He groaned again, but this time it sounded closer to a growl. He had gone to sleep at an ungodly hour yesterday and had woken up too _fucking_ early last night because of the pain in his chest. He was _bloody_ exhausted, certainly not in the mood to deal with _imbecilic, rude humans_.

"Come on! You didn't postpone or reschedule this meeting, so you're coming whether you like it or not," snapped Sirius tersely in a whispered hiss so he wouldn't wake the others sleeping in the room. He was just as irritable as his brother because of the early, or rather, late hour, was just as annoyed as him by the disrespectful and inconsiderate timing, and was just as tired and pained by their father's absence, but they had no time for grumpiness. It took even more insistent shaking and hissed warnings, but after a few more low growls of annoyance and a couple more minutes of defiantly ignoring his brother, Zephan rose from his bed glaring sullenly through bleary eyes at Sirius.

After he'd made himself presentable, Zephan met his brother in the hall and together they walked through the corridor and down the stairs that led to the ground floor. Every now and then he found himself unconsciously rubbing his eyes or his chest, as sleep, tiredness and pain won over his resolve to go through the meeting. But he was already up and out of bed, and already at the drawing room, so there was no point in backing down now. He sighed dejectedly and rubbed his eyes sleepily once more before straightening his posture. He squared his shoulders, opened his eyes fully and sharpened his keen gaze just as a knock came from the double doors of the spacious lounge. Not a second later, one of the doors opened slightly and in stepped Hiroshi. He was a man of average height, dressed in a dark navy blue suit with a tail coat, a black knot tie and a white shirt. He had light brown hair and kind dark brown eyes and all the features of a characteristic Japanese man, except his skin was marble white and his eyes unnaturally bright, deceiving a vampire. He was their butler, head of their staff and probably also fell under the role of their caretaker and the most level headed person in the house at all times. He had been with the family ever since their father, Vincent, had taken over as head of the coven, and had since then been unconditionally loyal to the family. His long time serving Vincent had ensured that he became a part of the family, and he was a kind of uncle to all the children that he had seen grow up and mature within those walls. He was also Vincent's most trusted councillor, probably more so than those hired for the job, keeper and manager of the main house of the coven –that is wherever Vincent lived at a given time- and was in charge of the guard assigned to the family by the Security Department of the Saphyre Vampire House.

"Master Sirius, young master Zephan, the humans Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, Master Severus Snape and Mrs Minerva McGonagall have arrived."

For some reason, though, that familiarity, trust and brotherhood with Vincent and his family had not dissuaded Hiroshi from referring to the Vampire Lord and his heirs formally. It had taken years of building trust, together with reasoning, pleading, and outright bribing the stoic Japanese vampire for the titles to change from 'Master' and 'Young master' to "Mister", and for "Stephanos" to become each one's given name–and that only happened when they were in private conversations. Still, the formal man always managed to make an endearment or a friendly nickname out of the formal titles whenever the situation called for it.

"Thank you, Hiroshi. Please bring them in," asked Sirius from his place at one of the two couches in the room. "And please ask Rosanna to come so they can have refreshments of their liking"

"Of course, Sir," answered the older looking vampire before bowing his head to both of them and leaving the room.

Said lounge was one of three drawing rooms in the manor. Two of those were enclosed alcoves each with two couches and three upholstered armchairs, a low coffee table in the middle, a couple of small side tables at each side of the couches, some cabinets and shelves decorated by silver trinkets over the counters, glass-door cabinets showing collections of glasses, hanging paintings and a couple of rise paper cuttings, and simple but elegant carpets covering the parquet floor. The last one was a great saloon to entertain the guests before large parties or dinners, meant to hold at least forty people comfortably. Glass doors under arch thresholds gave way from it to both the dining hall and the entrance hall to the manor.

At the moment, Zephan was standing in front of a waist high oak cabinet in one of the smaller drawing quarters. On its counter top was arranged in careful disorder a collection of small silver plates, cups and figurines, together with two beautiful silver hand bells. This collection had belonged to his father's wife, many years ago. She had loved collecting figurines and small silver crafts, and Anne had inherited said passion, enhanced and augmented. Among their collections were glass figurines, porcelain plates, angel figurines and bells, and they all adorned the halls and saloons in the house. His father's wife had been a beautiful, sweet woman; it was easy to see so in the portraits of her that hanged in the library and his father's study. Looking at her portraits, her trinkets and collections always made him wonder how his life would have been if she had lived as a vampire to meet him, if she had lived to be his mother. He knew it was no use wondering, and anyways, he was more than happy with his life. But well, dreaming is free of charge...

He heaved a low sigh and pulled his mind away from its wistful thinking and back to the present as he heard Hiroshi's and Rosanna's light steps and the humans' heavier footfalls nearing the door. He turned to face the door just as three firm knocks rang across the room.

"Come in," called out Sirius still on the couch. He sat comfortably, his stance conveying just the right amount of arrogance, self confidence, authority and leisure to ensure that anyone who laid their eyes on him would realize and accept that he was the one in command of the situation. It made sure that everyone understood, in no uncertain terms, that he had the last word. Taking his cue, Zephan composed himself to appear what he was: son of one of the Seven High Lords of the Saphyre House of Vampires, confident and in control of himself and of the situation. It was then that he noticed Rowan standing to the side, next to one of the armchairs, nursing a glass of wine and looking as regal as Sirius. And, even if he didn't know it and, had someone told him he wouldn't have believed them, Zephan looked just as regal, too.

As the doors opened, both brothers turned seemingly idle but covertly sharp and perceptive gazes to the dark wood panels and their visitors coming through. It was always good to be the one to establish eye contact. It ensured that one was the one to decide when to break it and when the conversation begun and, thus, how the conversation begun.

And so it was. When Hiroshi stepped aside and their visitors stepped in, taking in the predictable behaviour pattern of sweeping their gaze through the room and across the floor before turning towards them, it was their gazes forced onto the Hogwarts' teachers', and not the other way around. It was only after all three professors had entered the room and when eye contact had been firmly established between the five of them at least once that any words were spoken. In one elegant, fluid motion Sirius rose from his seat and turned fully towards them to greet them.

"Welcome Headmaster. It's a pleasure to have you here once again," said Sirius as he shook hands with the older man.

"Thank you, Sirius. I am glad to see you're doing well," answered the old headmaster genially.

"Please do take a seat," offered the pale eyed vampire motioning to the other couch and armchairs with one elegant gesture of his arm. The wizened wizard nodded in thanks and walked to the couch as Sirius turned to the other two visitors.

"Severus; I must admit I was surprised when I heard that you were coming too, but rest assured, you're just as welcomed," he said graciously, but the ironic underlying message wasn't lost to the potion master. Nonetheless, he just nodded cordially to the vampire and turned to stand next to the armchair to the right of the couch chosen by the headmaster, glancing surreptitiously at Rowan and scowling darkly at Sirius when he thought no one was looking. But Zephan noticed, and a nasty smirk pulled stubbornly at the corner of his lips for a couple of seconds before he got his expression under control. Good, at least one of them knew their position in the current situation and understood that they were actually by no means welcomed to their home. As Sirius turned to greet their one female guest, he turned to the headmaster.

"Good morning Headmaster, it is good to see you well," he said as he practically glided from his vantage point next to the silver collection towards the seating head teacher.

"Harry! What a pleasure to see you. I hope you're doing well," asked the headmaster jovially as he stood to shake the teen's hand.

"I'm perfectly fine sir. But, is there a way to convince you to call me Zephan, professor?" he asked, forcing down his annoyance at the obviously deliberate use of his former name, and making the request sound as innocent and respectful as possible.

"Of course, I'm sorry my boy, it must have slipped my tongue," answered the old wizard casually. "You must understand, I've only known you as Harry for all this years. It is difficult for me to let go of such an ingrained habit."

"I understand, of course. But I'm sure such habits won't pose a problem. After all, humans are a species based on adaption skills," he commented just as lightly, but his sharp eyes conveyed the covert reproach behinds his words easily. Before any more words could be exchanged between them, he turned towards the other two professors.

"Master Snape, it is a pleasure to meet you," said the young vampire, offering his hand to the tall, pale man, while keeping his voice carefully neutral and respectful. He knew he had to play his cards well when it came to this man, because of the history between the potion master and his brother, also godfather, Sirius, and his biological father James. Fortunately it seemed his approach was the correct one for only after a few seconds of scrutinizing him with his dark eyes, the young human shook his hand firmly.

"Likewise, Mr Stephanos," answered the pale man just as careful about his expression, but there was something strained about the neutrality of his facade and the way he said his name that gave away that maybe he wasn't as pleased.

"I've heard wonders about you from Master Leandro," commented the green eyed vampire, choosing to play in favour of certain common interests instead of possible discrepancies.

"Master Leandro Mallery?" asked the dark eyed man, an eyebrow raised in surprise breaking his overall stoic mask.

"Yes, sir. He was my potions teacher in the Academy," he answered.

"I understand that your education hasn't followed the standard curriculum for a wizard," commented the professor, allowing the slightest hint of sincere curiosity and interest to slip through his voice.

"Yes, it is actually a wide spectrum programme meant to give the students a view of all options available, in all magical, scientific –natural, exact and social– and artistic areas of studies," explained the teen, keeping his response vague enough so he wouldn't answer to the wizard's underlying enquire, but forced him to be direct about it.

"I would assume that a potion master of Master Mallery's calibre would only teach a specialized potion class," said Snape after a moment of silence where he debated whether to accept the challenge or just let the matter drop, but in the end, his curiosity won over his old contempt against the Potters and his biased opinion of the boy.

"Yes, he only teaches the elective advanced course," began Zephan, forcing his triumphant smirk to morph into a simple smile. "My interest has always leaned towards both biology and chemistry, so when the time came to choose my advance courses, it seemed logical to have Potions as one of them, together with Alchemy, as they closely relate to both sciences in the magical side of the spectrum."

"Then I can expect an excelling performance from you, Mr Stephanos," Snape challenged quite bluntly.

"Of course sir. Nothing but the best will come from one of Master Leandro's students, I can assure you," answered the young vampire as he allowed his face to show just enough emotions to change his gentle smile into a confident smirk and for his eyes to glint ever so slightly with the thrill of a challenge.

Their consequential silence was accompanied by that of all the other occupants of the room, and Rosanna took the chance to offer refreshments.

"Is there anything edible in this place?" mussed Snape turning to look at Sirius with raised eyebrow and an expression that expertly twisted scepticism and disgust into a condescending look.

Looking completely unfazed by the man's words, Rosanna continued as expected of a maid, offering tea, coffee, water, natural fruit juice, sodas and stronger drinks. She then turned to Sirius and asked if she should also bring snacks –the fact that those snacks included a glass of crimson delicacy for the vampires went unsaid. After she had all the requests and was politely dismissed by Sirius' soft "thank you", she bowed slightly from her waist to both Stephanos, bowed her head to Rowan in the corner, and nodded to the three humans before leaving the room, Hiroshi close behind.

The conversation slowly picked up in the room about inconsequential matters, such as the vampires' household, Hogwarts' staff and their well being among others. All throughout their conversation, the three humans sent a combination of curious, suspicious and worried glances at Rowan. Said drow had moved to stand next to a tall, narrow wooden cabinet with glass paned doors behind the couch where Dumbledore and McGonagall sat, seemingly marvelling at the beautiful figurines and small sculptures and crafts there but actually paying acute attention to the ongoing conversation. Not ten minutes later two knocks on the door announced Rosanna, who entered without waiting to be asked in. She carried a large round tray expertly in one hand and with the other accommodated the drinks, a dish filled with biscuits and two wine glasses filled with a liquid too thick and too red to be wine on the low table. Then, at a discreet beckoning hand movement from the dark elf, she turned and made her way towards Rowan, refilling his now empty cup with the one bottle of merlot that she had carried into the room and left the bottle on the side table closest to the drow. Her job done, she bowed and retired.

Seeing that the refreshments and snacks were served and thus the time for pleasantries was over, Sirius leaned forward on the couch, took one of the wine glasses and sipped at it before turning to the three humans in the room.

"Well, milady, gentlemen, let us get down to business."

* * *

_A/N:_ FINALLY! Goddammit, this chapter was a pain in the ass. It all added up as fate conspired against me: a huge lot of school reports, a couple of annoying synonyms and words that just wouldn't drop from the tip of my tongue, a very lame, slow scene, and a very tricky and complex scene all put together to make this one hell of a chapter to write.

And! A cliff hanger. Yes people, the next chapter is important, and HOPEFULLY, it won't take as long to write as this one. I'll do my very best.

Now, this chapter was a God-dammed filler, and I'm sorry for that, but the chapter was turning too long. If I had added the conversation between the Hogwarts' teachers and the Stephanos brothers it would've just taken too long to post, and I don't want to make the chapters much longer than what this one already is, so I had to cut it.

Because of my inability to write any faster, this chapter wasn't properly edited, so you may find loads of typos and some spelling mistakes or the like. Sorry about that.

Copyrights!:

-Nicolás' eyes are my feeble attempt to describe a gorgeous picture in deviantART . com. I wish I could remember the artist's penname or the picture's title, but for now, this is all I can tell you about them.

-Alice's name is for Alice in Wonderland. Even though the world is full of Alices, it was that book that made me name my character so.

AND see you next chapter guys.


	4. Humans in the House

**!EDITED!**_  
_

_A/N:_ I feel disappointed with myself, more than I thought possible. I'm sorry for the horrible delay, but I couldn't help it, really. This chapter was difficult, and life has been even more difficult.

To compensate, I'll make this short. I hope you enjoy it!

_Disclaimer: you know it._

(I STILL NEED A BETA!)

* * *

**In the Heart of the Family**

Chapter 04: **Humans in the House**

Zephan was trying his best, he really was, but still he couldn't stop himself from staring and blinking stupidly at the old headmaster of Hogwarts. He didn't know whether to feel livid, outraged and immensely insulted or simply stunned into dumb silence. Here comes this human, who had figuratively barged into his home, forcing him to bend his circadian rhythm for his comfort -even though he was the only child and thus the only one seriously affected by such arrangement- and dares to _**strongly suggest**_, as he had euphemistically said, that **he**, Zephan Stephanos, fifth son of Vincent Stephanos, who was one of the Seven High Lords of the Saphyre Vampire House, _hides_ his vampiric nature during his stay in the British Isles and their school of witchcraft and wizardry, Hogwarts! Seriously, this man was either very brave, very stupid, or simply out of his mind.

The decision was soon made for him though, for he could feel himself getting angrier by the second, and it was only Rowan's subtle hand on his arm that stopped him from lashing out at the old human. On the same couch, sitting next to him, Sirius wasn't faring any better, for it appeared to be taking all of his self-control to keep his jaw from dropping in utter shock and his eyes from blazing in rampant fury.

"Excuse me?" The older vampire's words were tense, and so was his whole body. Hs shoulders had involuntarily squared, one of them drawing forward in a threatening posture. His hands had curled into tight fists and the muscles of his neck resembled taut ropes. Everything about him screamed anger, and it was all he could do not to pull his lips back and snarl at the wizards in primal rage.

Rowan decided in that moment that his act as silent bystander was useless and simply not worth the political catastrophe that would ensue if he allowed Sirius to continue with whatever line of thought he was following, for it would certainly be very brash, very violent, very angry, very, VERY loud and not at all useful. He set his hands firmly on Sirius' shoulders and physically pulled him back, before turning to the aged headmaster.

"Mr. Dumbledore, I don't think you realize the serious implications of what you are suggesting," he said. His voice was calm and collected, but his eyes were frozen over, glaring sharply at the old wizard. He may have retained self-control, but he was still deeply offended by the insulting suggestion made in an even more insulting manner to his lover's brother. "Zephan here is one of the five children sired by High Lord Vincent Stephanos, who is one of the Seven High Lords of the Saphyre Vampire House. In analogy to your system of government, High Lord Stephanos is a King, one of the seven Kings that in Council rule over the Saphyre House, which is one of the ten nations of vampires. Thus, Zephan is actually Lord Zephan Stephanos, as are all his siblings, and they are all what in your system would be Princes. As it is High Lord Stephanos that chooses his successor, Zephan is equally eligible to succeed the throne as any of his siblings, for all siblings are in the same position as 'first in line' for the title of High Lord or Lady."

"I'm sure that you have realized that, because of his political position, what you have '_strongly suggested_' is actually a preposterous idea. Asking Zephan to pretend to be a human is the same as asking your Prince Charles of Wales to pretend to be a beggar while in a diplomatic meeting with foreign authorities."

Before any snide remark could escape Snape's mouth, or any smooth worded apology could slide from Dumbledore's silver tongue, Zephan himself interjected, his eyes blazing with cold fury, and his voice was filled with righteous anger, disgust, and a healthy dose of disbelief.

"Rowan, whether I'm a Prince or not is neither here nor there!" he snapped, then turned to the wizards "What you're suggesting, headmaster is outrageous in _any context_ possibly imaginable. You are asking me to deny my family, my nature, my culture, and my roots; you're asking me to deny _myself_ to accommodate your prejudiced society. Could you imagine what would happen if we asked you, or any human at all, to pretend to be a _vampire_ during their stay at one of our Homes, so they wouldn't unsettle the vampire inhabitants? Can you imagine the reaction that such a _suggestion_ would receive? We would not only be called on our supposedly barbaric way or our 'beastly nature', but we would also be buried alive by your press for our rudeness, daring and utter disrespect for making what to _your_ kind would be an all but capital offence. I am going to stay in your country, in your school, I will accommodate to your customs and your ways, but I am **not** going to forfeit my principles to make the kids in the castle and their parents feel comfortable."

There, his immediate rage apparently appeased, he paused, and then continued. This time his tone was soft, controlled and measured, but his eyes were filled with the same passionate rage, now condensed into a cold and calculating glare.

"Mr. Dumbledore, Mr. Snape, Mrs. McGonagall: I've been brought up in an environment where discrimination of any but a completely positive and caring kind, where prejudice, where bigotry and intolerance are all but a crime. I've been taught to never deny anyone the basic and most natural respect deserved by every living creature on the base of something as insignificant as their nature or because of their inherent characteristics that may or not differ from my own. A person may have a different skin, hair or eye colour to mine, may believe in a different religion, may belong to a different culture or they may be disabled in some way, but they deserve the same respect, no matter what. At least, that is what I was taught. And I will not stop believing so or living my life and every moment in it based on those beliefs, no matter what."

A heavy silence settled over the group. The three wizards were stunned, staring at the young vampire in a mixture of surprise, shock and grudging respect that slowly filled with humbled embarrassment. Just as Dumbledore seemed ready to attempt to fix his mistake, McGonagall interjected.

"Mr. Stephanos, I can realize that what we have said may sound very insulting to you, and I apologize," she begun, her voice calm, humble and appeasing. "I understand both the political situation you are in and your moral standing, and I must say that I support you when you say that asking you to pretend to be something that you're not with no powerful reason is certainly offending and disrespectful," she said, sending a sharp look at the headmaster from the corner of her eye. "Once again, I apologize for the offence. I only ask you to please understand that in our country, relationships between humans and other… _species_ are not fluid, so it is for your comfort that we thought it would be best to try to blend in"

"I'm sure that your intentions were good, Professor," replied Sirius, his anger abated, and his voice now calm and collected. "But you must understand that my brother is not going to your school as a simple student. He is merely accepting your headmaster's hospitality while he acts as the Ambassador of the Council of High Lords of the Saphyre House in Great Britain."

"We weren't aware of that," interrupted Snape sharply.

"Impossible," cut in Rowan sharply. "We made sure our intentions were clear."

"Apparently, it is not impossible," retorted Snape darkly, "for I know with absolute certainty that neither Minerva nor I knew about any political undercurrents to this situation. And what does a _bodyguard_ know about anything-"

"He is **not** a bodyguard, Master Snape," interrupted Zephan, his voice sharp and his eyes cold. "He is Rowan Usher, son of the King of the Western Kingdom of the Drow, Heir to their thrown, and my brother's lover."

"I suggest that you carefully measure your words, Master Snape," said Rowan in a soft but menacing tone. "You are in the present Home of a Royal Vampire Family, which means that probably every person you meet in these halls has a higher political status than even your Headmaster here."

The ensuing silence would have been heavy and tense had it not been immediately interrupted.

"Lovers?" McGonagall's voice and her whole demeanour spoke of utter shock.

"Yes, my lady. Lovers and life companions if we have our way by the end of this year," answered Sirius with a decidedly proud smile on his face.

Although the meaning and weight of those words were lost to the three humans, Zephan was greatly surprised by the nonchalant declaration; after all, it isn't every day you hear your brother is getting married! He fortunately managed to reign in the worse of his shock and thus prevent his jaw from dropping and his eyes from popping out of their sockets.

"You still haven't explained why we didn't know about the political purpose of your stay at Hogwarts," Snape said in a cutting tone, sending a dark look at Sirius before looking at Zephan.

"That's strange, Master Snape; that you didn't know of the diplomatic nature of my stay at Hogwarts, that is," said Zephan with the most convincingly confused tone he could muster and thus preventing his brother from answering with whatever sarcastic remark he could come up with. He really wanted to avoid a confrontation between those two at all cost. "After all, the Headmaster here has known about this since the beginning of the negotiations between all my hosts-to-be and the International Relationships Ministry of my nation," he finished, sending an innocent (and very much fake) questioning look at said wizard.

"Forgive me, I assumed that after you accepted to stay at Hogwarts, this matter turned completely academic," answered the headmaster with a light tone.

"Dumbledore, this matter has never been academic at all, no matter how you look at it," interjected Sirius, his voice deadpanned.

"How can it not be academic? Zephan is attending Hogwarts, isn't he?" McGonagall asked, clearly confused.

"I finished my schooling last December, professor," explained Zephan, his voice conveying a hind of annoyance.

"That makes no sense, Mr Stephanos. You are only fifteen after all," objected Snape, all but glaring at the ensemble.

"Master Snape, you have to understand that The Academy works with a system diametrically different to yours." Rowan's deep and calm voice broke into the conversation before it could turn volatile. "First of all, it integrates human –pardon me; it integrates the _muggle_'s educational system -which lasts 12 years as world average- and their pre-school system; that means that children attend nurseries and kindergarten. These institutions are meant to stimulate the children's cognitive development through games and interactive work in a safe and amicable environment, where they can interact with other children their age and develop not only their academic intelligence, but all the spectrum of multiple intelligences, such as artistic and interpersonal abilities. The first five years of schooling are meant to introduce children to all areas of knowledge and continue to stimulate them in the non-academic areas of cognitive development, through sports and other such activities. Finally, the last seven years, which mirror your own educational system, are meant to steadily deepen the students' knowledge and turn their vague and superficial knowledge on all areas into a solid base for whatever career they choose. It is also during the last four years of this period that children are slowly steered to choose one area of knowledge, to focalize their interests little by little so that the final choice at the end of their schooling isn't abrupt."

"Now, The Academy is very protective of children's rights, and ensures that every child that enters its system is allowed to live his or her childhood to its fullest. The Academy forbids that any student is forced into excessive study thus forfeiting his or her time for recreation. It also forbids that young children are entered before a given age or skip school years until their basic cognitive development is over. But after their third year of schooling -that is, after their ninth birthday, give or take depending on the species- the rules change. They all have to take diagnosis tests both for their academic and psychological development. Together with an interview, their marks, and the former evaluations made through the years by the teachers, the information gathered serves as the base for the head of junior school, the form teachers, the psychologist and the child's parents to decide if the child should continue through the regular courses or skip some years."

"Zephan is an exceptional child, intelligent, clever and sharp. That, together with the fact that his overall psychological development was normal, led Lord Stephanos to decide that Zephan would skip fourth year. He went directly to fifth grade and in that one year he breezed through not only fifth, but also sixth and seventh grade."

"After that hectic year I told my father that I wouldn't skip any more grades, and as a result I finished my schooling three years early," interrupted Zephan with the sole purpose of halting Rowan's apparently never-ending speech, slightly annoyed and embarrassed by Rowan's compliments. "That means that I already have my school licence that certifies I'm an alumni of both magical and muggle's scientific-humanistic education."

"Then… then why are you attending Hogwarts?" asked McGonagall, openly perplexed.

"Mainly, to make a point," stated Zephan simply, "Or a political statement, you could say. But basically I'm staying at your school to make the Saphyre House's opinion of the Voldemort dilemma clear in a very plain and notorious way. Of course, there are many other perks to staying at Hogwarts that staying at some high dignitary's house doesn't offer, but in the purely political aspect, Hogwarts is the best choice to convey our position clearly because it represents the most diametric opposition to Voldemort's terrorism that the whole British Wizardry Community has to offer."

"And then what were all the former meetings for?" Snape asked clearly annoyed.

"Sincerely, I just wanted to know what it is that I'll be able to do in my spare time," answered Zephan with a smirk.

* * *

Conversation had been going on for over four hours know. After the matter of his feeding had been dealt with, the matter of transportation to and from Hogwarts was addressed. After all, as an Ambassador he would be expected to participate in a variety of functions and attend all kinds of social gathering and events where politicians of all species and races would congregate to share opinions and learn about everyone else's position. After that, Sirius posed the matter of the entourage that would accompany him. It was a given that his father and at least one of his brothers would be with him most of the time. But that meant that there would also be a team of six to eight bodyguards with them at every moment, as required by the security detail of the Royal Family and on Hiroshi's insistence. They would all require private quarters and proper nourishment. This discussion was followed by that of where to house any meetings that he, Zephan, was expected to host. None of that would have taken as long as it did if the Hogwarts' professors actually understood the cultures and species they were dealing with; but they didn't. It had taken an exceedingly huge amount of time to explain to them that the castle would have to be open twenty four hours a day at time to accommodate the nocturne visitors, that the house elves would have to prepare specified menus to see to all the different species' needs and that not only dignitaries and politicians with their entourages were going to visit, but also blood donors should be allowed entrance as expected of a Vampire residence, amongst many other things.

By the time the conversation was slowly drawing to a close and the finer points of all matters were slowly but surely being cleared and dealt with, Zephan had long since left the conversation. Exhaustion was quickly catching up on him, faster than he thought it would; but then again, it was nearing three in the afternoon. He had woken up last night around a quarter to six, too early for his liking, and the morning earlier he had gone to bed quite late, half past eleven. As a result he had slept barely over six hours when usually nothing could wake him up before he had his due nine to ten hours of rest. And the days before hadn't been much better either. Add to that the fact that those few hours of sleep had been restless and outright painful because his bond to his father had been pulling insistently for the last forty eight hours and you had a very much exhausted vampire child.

He was standing next to a corner cabinet filled with a glass collection at the moment, holding with a loose grasp the now empty wine glass that had originally been filled with blood. He was doing his best to ignore the sharp stabbing pains that flashed across his chest every few minutes while attempting to pay at least a bit of attention to the conversation going on around him, but was failing miserably. Tiredness had settled in long ago, and the words sounded like an inarticulate buzz behind his back. He could feel his blood flowing extremely fast through his vessels and his heart beating unnaturally fast, coming dangerously close to half a human's heart rate. As a vampire, his heart rate should be ten beats per minute ideally, and it could lower to just one per minute if necessary, but the extreme demand on his too young vampire body was taking its toll on him. He could feel the blood pumping in his temples, his neck and his wrists to the point it was painful, he could feel his skin heating and his metabolism heightening, quickening his breath, wasting energy and nutrients he _didn't _have.

A sudden wave of pain assaulted him, stronger and more debilitating than any and all the former. The hand with the glass moved quickly to his chest, but a aftershock assaulted him before it reached past his waist. His breath had quickened, but he wasn't getting any air into his lungs. He was hyperventilating and he knew it, but he couldn't do anything about it. His sight unfocused, the images before his eyes blurred, and everything turned and twirled around him. His breath hitched, another stabbing pain ripped through his chest, and he swayed, his knees giving away under him. His sight went black long before the glass shattered on the floor.

* * *

Rowan was the first to notice. He had withdrawn himself from the conversation, only jutting in a comment here or there mainly to prevent Sirius' temper from taking over. He had concentrated himself on observing the other occupants of the room, just as he had at the beginning of the meeting, taking in their actions and reactions to the words spoken, and going over the behaviour and their words to make sure nothing underhanded was taking place. Thus, he had immediately perceived Zephan's withdrawal and his increasing discomfort. It was no surprise to him when the boy collapsed.

He was at the boy's side in a instant, catching the now limp body before it hit the floor, Sirius but a breath behind him. The humans, startled by the sudden change in the atmosphere and the apparent disappearance of their hosts, only realized what was going on after the glass hit the floor and shattered with the beautiful ring of crystal against the hardwood floor. By the time the humans had gotten over their shock and out of their seats, Zephan was already in his brother's arms and the electric feeling of energy filled the air as Rowan's hands hovered above the teen's chest and body, his magic carefully scanning the flow of energies in the youngster.

"My goodness! Is he alright?" The woman's reaction came as slow and all but comically delayed to the fast paced drow and vampire.

"He's in shock," the drow said in a soft whisper so only Sirius would be able to hear. "He is clearly exhausted, and his body overcompensated."

A distracted nod was his only answer, for Sirius was too busy fawning over the unconscious child, sending calming waves of his own magic into the young vampire's body to sooth the stressed currents of energy raging within. Realizing that the vampire Prince's attention was completely focused on his brother, and nothing would come from trying to sway it, he resigned himself to the job of dealing with the humans. He sent Sirius to his room with a few soft words and a nudge towards the door to tend to Zephan in privacy.

A heavy silence set over the group after the door shut behind Sirius' back, and stretched for long minutes before McGonagall's voice broke in, filled with worry.

"Will he be alright?"

"Eventually," answered Rowan evenly.

"What happened to him? Does he have a medical condition that we should be aware of?" asked Dumbledore sincerely.

"The only condition he has is his vampiric nature, and the only problem here is your blatant ignorance and disregard to that fact." Rowan's emotional control had drained suddenly. The humans unashamed ignorance had been grating at his nerves the whole day, but this was way too much for him. His eyes ablaze with fury, he turned sharply to glare at the three humans with all but hate. "You came here all but demanding a meeting with the Stephanos Princes at ten thirty in the morning -_ten thirty in the morning!_- without even bothering, probably not even thinking about asking if the time was right, or if the family was free at the time, or even if it wasn't too inopportune because vampires are **nocturnes**."

"No- Nocturnes?" The stuttered enquiry was all but an articulate breath from the female professor.

"And not only that, but you force Zephan, who is a _child_, still just a _bloodling_, to stay up this late into the day to the point of exhausting him! And you have the **nerve** to ask if he has a medical condition. Never mind the fact that you've been pushing him this far in his father's absence, which is, in and of itself, a stressful condition for the child"

"Mr. Stephanos is nearly sixteen, old enough so that staying up past his sleeping hours should pose no problem. I don't see how this could be the source of any ailments" was Snape's snide remark.

"And **there** is the source of all our troubles, _Master_ Snape," said Rowan, puncturing the word 'Master' heavily with cynicism. Then he turned back to all three humans and continued. "You've been dealing with this whole affair as if the only difference between you humans and the Stephanos was your appearance, when in fact it is not. There is a whole _world_ of difference between you and them, and between you and I. You keep assuming that Zephan is a sixteen years old human, when in fact he is a _twenty two and a half_ _months_ old vampire. Even if he had already lived fourteen years as a human before his turning, and even if the adoption ritual ensured that his growth continues until his body reaches adulthood, he is still a _child_. He is not even two years old! Although his vampire development went faster than normal, he is not older than a six or seven year old vampire, which is **not**, by the way, the same as a seven years old human. Actually, it is something closer to a four or five years old one, because the development, detachment and maturing processes are **not** the same for humans and vampires, contrary to what you may assume."

"But that shouldn't cause him so much damage; missing sleep should only tire him some. And what about his father?" asked Dumbledore, with a light tone that clearly discredited the severity of the situation.

"And again it all comes down to your utter and shameless ignorance, Headmaster." This time, Rowan had no qualms about allowing his emotions to twist his expression into a dark sneer. "The parent and child bond is so strong between vampires that it's all but a physical tie. Long term absence, distance and forceful separations are physically painful to both the parent and the child. The child is specially affected by any pull on the bond because it is the child that depends on the parent. Lord Stephanos has been gone for a week and that has taken his toll on Zephan. But how long he has been gone doesn't really matter. If you were proper guests to a Vampire Home, you would have asked for, not appointed, a meeting very early in the morning to suit both the nocturne and diurnal beings' circadian rhythm, you would have realized the absence of the sire, you would have made this meeting brief and to the point, and would have been aware of the bloodlings' situation and would have accommodated to it. Instead you demanded a meeting, came in late into the day, didn't even notice that the House's sire wasn't home, and therefore special consideration should be taken on the bloodlings' wellbeing, and forced a child into exhaustion."

"And how should we know all this-" Snape's voice was demanding and angered, but was harshly interrupted by Rowan's hissed response.

"It is your obligation to know your hosts' customs, Mr Snape," snapped Rowan, his anger uncontained. "It is a real mystery to me how you expect to be able to host a whole entourage of vampires if you didn't even know until now the most basic fact that they are nocturnal beings!"

"But, then, how is Zephan supposed to be at Hogwarts if he depends on his father's presence?" Asked McGonagall softly, deeply intimidated by the drow's fury, which was only punctuated by his blazing violet eyes and his ferocious sharp teeth.

"Finally a sensible question, ma'am." Rowan's smile was a cynic mockery to their pathetic performance. "Lord Stephanos is above all thing a caring father; he will easily be able to accommodate his schedule to spend at least four days a week with his children, as he always has. The distance is no hinder as he owns both a private jet and a shadow shifting pendant –a treasure on its own."

"Your highness- Lord Rowan, you mentioned more children..?" Dumbledore's hesitation and discomfort was music to Rowan's ears.

"Vampires are considered underage, when born vampires, or bloodlings, when turned vampires, until they've lived twenty five years as vampires," explained the drow, his voice calmer but his eyes still cold. "As Sirius turned ten last April, both of them are bloodlings."

"But then how is Sirius not affected by Lord Stephanos' absence?" asked McGonagall, the strength of her voice returning as her subconscious perceived the threat of the predator diminish.

"Sirius is older, and therefore his detachment process is more advanced," was the dark elf's curt answer.

"What do you mean by detachment process?" Once again it was McGonagall who asked, and the drow had to admit that her sincere interest was refreshing and slightly appeasing.

"Just as it is the case with humans, and all mammals, Vampire children must learn to let go of their parents and parents must learn to set their children free. The fact that this bond is physically noticeable in the case of vampires just makes the process of detachment more apparent."

"Then how do you expect a boy who is all but an infant to attend Hogwarts?" Snape asked sceptically.

"But he is not an infant, Master Snape, he is a bloodling, and that is a concept that apparently eludes you," Said Rowan, his eyes darkening once again in annoyance. "Zephan's cognitive development and maturity is at least two years over that of most humans his age; it is his vampire nature that still depends on his father, but that doesn't hinder his mental faculties, as you keep implying."

A tense silence, awkward from the humans' part, settled over the group, this time stretching for long minutes. For as long as the silence lasted, Rowan kept his gaze fixed on the eyes of all humans, switching from the eyes of one to those of the other every few seconds. He did so in a way that made the three Hogwarts teachers feel that the drow Prince was demanding something from them that should have been obvious but in fact proved impossible for them to guess, leaving them shifting nervously in their place like a group of children caught in mischief. When their uncomfortable shifting and twitching had gone from all but nonexistent to plainly visible, the drow broke the silence, his voice tired and filled with resignation and frustration.

"I suggest, Headmaster that you and your companions go to Umeda, in Kita-ku, Osaka, buy some decent material on the vampire culture and species, and get back to your homes and study said material until you can recite it in your sleep. Maybe _then_ you can attempt to be barely decent hosts to a full diplomatic corps of a vampire nation.

"I doubt I can sincerely end this meeting with pleasantries, so I will summon Hiroshi, and he shall escort you to the entrance and see you in your way. Good day."

With those as his curt parting words, Rowan turned his back to the three professors and marched out of the room, all but slamming the door behind his back and in their noses. A trio of dumbstruck humans was left to wait for the house butler in stunned silence.

* * *

The tall figure of the fourth prince of the Stephanos house stormed through the halls of the royal home like a raging wraith, his silhouette all but a blur in the air. Behind the guise of speed, the face of Sirius Stephanos was twisted in a grimace of heart wrenching worry, his attention all but fixed on the unconscious boy in his arms, only a sliver of his awareness heeding to their path. Just as the ghost of his blurred afterimage vanished from the stairs, the double doors leading to the house's master bedroom slammed open on their own. In a second he had slid between the beautiful larch blades, and in the following one slowed down to a full stop, his knees all but touching the soft musky green comforter of his father's king sized bed. As the doors closed silently behind his back, he slowly and carefully lowered his brother's limp body to the mattress, his eyes never leaving the ashen-pale face of the teen, fear etched into his irises.

And still his mind wandered.

The sickly parlour of the skin, the quick, truly unnecessary breaths, the accelerated heartbeat and the unresponsive body of his younger brother brought memories of a not so distant past. They unearthed memories of a week when things had gone from slightly annoying to terribly wrong; memories of a night when, as he held the same child in his arms, he feared he was also holding that child's last breath with feeble hands that would soon fail him, allowing that precious heartbeat to rattle to a stop and that one last breath to slip through his helpless fingers.

It had been a horrible week during the first days of February of the last year. His father had left for a diplomatic visit to China during their new year festivities, and for reasons that remained unknown to both bloodlings until long after the life threatening crisis had been solved, his father hadn't returned when planned. The delay had been too long, his brother had been too young, and the stress had been far too great for the child to bear. It had been an horrifying realization when, during the last two days before his father return, it dawned on him that he no longer was holding just an ill brother in his arms. It had frozen him to the core, the comprehension that he anchored with his presence the dying spirit of the child, that he held a life that hanged onto Zephan's body only by a failing, eroded thread. The memories of those days still paralyzed him in fear; his breath was caught in his throat by a tense knot, his heart started and stopped, and his body shook involuntarily at the mere thought of those horrible moments. It had been a nightmare and the source of many others after it was done with.

And now, faced with not only the memory, but the physical incarnation of that very nightmare, he was robbed of all sense of self. He was petrified, his eyes wide in fear, his parlour nearly as ashen as his brother's. His heartbeat was caught between the need to beat fast in the face of adrenaline and the utter inability to beat at all because of shock, his mind numbed and wiped of all thought. His consciousness simply couldn't accept what lay before his eyes, couldn't accept that what had happened sixteen months ago may repeat itself.

It had begun just like this. Zephan had been well, if a bit pained and short tempered, but nothing in his demeanour had hinted to his severely failing health. They had been in the lounge in the second floor trying futilely to distract themselves with some music, TV and some books, when suddenly, during one of his impatient pacing arrests, Zephan had collapsed for no apparent reason. Things had gone downhill at breakneck speed from there, and the next thing he knew was that, according to Hiroshi's diagnosis, his brother's health had been severely compromised by their father's absence. Zephan had only regained consciousness five times during the following three days before their father returned, and although at first he had greedily taken Sirius' blood as sustenance and as a link to their father, by the time the third day had rolled by, his brother's blood simply hadn't been what his body needed and it had all but completely shut down.

After long minutes of horrified shock, Sirius mind finally shook itself into motion, rationality taking a desperate grasp over despair. This was certainly not a repeat of last year. This time his brother was older, nearly a two years old bloodling, he was stronger and _damn it all_ but he couldn't lose his brother so he had to hold on to hope.

He slowly and jerkily lowered himself to the bed until he sat precariously at the edge of the mattress right next to Zephan's chest. Then with trembling hands he carefully and tenderly picked up the young vampire and cradled him in his arms while shifting until he was sitting fully on the bed. When comfortable and sure of his hold on Zephan, he raised his left hand to his mouth and bit down on his index finger sharply with one of his elongated fangs. When he felt the skin break under the pressure and the coppery taste of blood flooded his mouth, he pulled back, allowing the digit to bleed until a copious drop of blood lay on its tip. Then, in a motion reminiscent to that of a parent checking the gums of their teething infant child, he pushed his finger between Zephan's lips and swept it over his teeth, his gums and then forced it between his jaws to softly touch his brother's tongue. It was an age old manoeuvre born out of all but pure instinct, and it was meant to elicit some kind of reaction from a bloodling through the taste of familiar blood. After a few tense moments that to Sirius lasted an eternity, it worked. He felt Zephan's warm tongue twitch and then sweep weakly against his finger. It picked up strength and soon his brother was gently sucking the digit, desperate for some nourishment and familiarity.

It was only some seconds later that with just a little difficulty Sirius pulled his finger out of his brother's mouth and guided the exhausted vampire to his neck. Holding him in a tight hug, one hand cradling the green eyed vampire's head, he tilted his head to one side and laid Zephan's lips on the crook of his neck. The reaction was instantaneous. In less than a second his skin was pierced by the youngster's sharp and hungry fangs and his blood was sucked out of his vessels like water by a man lost in the desert. The abruptness and abandon of the act flooded his senses and emotions, unsettling him and leaving him slightly lost in his own mind. But soon enough his brother seemed to realize where he was and what was going on, and the torrent of wild emotions flowing from the two year old calmed down. Loving gratitude caressed the edges of his mind, and he sent back all his love, worry and care in tender waves. They remained like that for long minutes, basking in the calming warmth of the Sharing, until Zephan slowly pulled back. His head rose slowly from the refuge that his brother's embrace offered, and turned to look at Sirius with unnaturally bright, dazed eyes that took a moment to focus on Sirius' pale blue orbs. He then tilted his head to one side, offering his own blood to Sirius in return. The elder brother just smiled and shook his head in negative. Zephan's tired mind took a moment to register the answer, but finally managed to send a sluggish questioning look to his brother through heavy lidded eyes.

"You need that, Zeph," answered Sirius with a soft chuckle. "Now go to sleep."

He then stood up with his brother in his arms and with just a bit of effort pulled the covers of the bed while holding the teen in his arms and then tucked him in, watching with a tender smile as those beautiful green orbs fluttered closed and the young vampire's breath evened out as he drifted into a deep slumber. Just as he rose from placing one last kiss on his brother's forehead, one of the dark blades of the double larch doors was pushed open, and in came Rowan.

"How is he?" the dark elf asked in a soft voice.

"Asleep."

"That's good."

With sure strides, the tall drow walked the final steps to the bed, giving his lover one quick hug and a chaste kiss on the lips before focusing completely on the sleeping youth.

"He should be alright; there are barely any hints of Loss in him. It was mostly exhaustion that caused his collapse" he said at length, his diagnosis done.

"Thank the gods," Sirius breathed out in utter relief as he slumped against the headboard.

"I think I told you so," commented Rowan with a small smirk.

"That you did," answered Sirius with a tired smile. "I guess I should pay more attention to what you say; after all, you're the MD."

"That you should," answered the elf, and with the arrogant smile still on his lips, Rowan descended swiftly on Sirius, catching the vampire's lips with his own in a deep and loving kiss.

It was too soon for Sirius when Rowan pulled back after a whole minute.

"We should go to bed ourselves," said Rowan, smiling slightly at the lingering passion in his lover's eyes. "Young or not, it is too late for any nocturne to be awake."

Sirius nodded at that, but his eyes lingered on his brother's sleeping form with hesitance, before turning with a faint plea towards the violet eyed man.

"I know. It's OK, I don't mind," assured Rowan with a kind smile.

Sirius smiled gratefully in return and, with one last lingering kiss between the lovers, Rowan walked out of the room just as Sirius stripped out of his shoes and slacks and slid into bed with his brother for the day.

_A/N:_ AND DONE! Phew! That was difficult, but really good. I liked this chapter, it was a refreshing challenge. I did have to start at least four times before this plane set off, but I'm happy with the result.

Once again, I'm terribly sorry for the outrageous delay. RLTM has been a bitch.

And about the chapter, there's a lot about it that I'd like to address here.

1st, The Academy: it has a name, it's just that it's of such fame and renown that most people (namely, everyone who know of its existence) just call it The Academy (caps included).  
2nd, Studies in the Academy: they don't go through super learning of double the amount of hours as in normal muggle school, they just accommodate all subjects to a full day of classes (8:30 to 3:30 or something like that). All children there are normal; there are just a few geniuses around like everywhere in the world. Maybe I'll tell you more details about it within the story.  
3rd, Life companion: Marriage in a way. It's a ritual, a symbolic bonding between two people based on love, for life.  
4th, Vampire's Circadian Rhythm: just replace pm with am and am with pm and you'll know around what time of the day it would be for a diurnal being. Say, at 6 am Zephan feels as if it was 6 pm for a human. As explained in the chapter, Zephan is just a child vampire, a bloodling, so disrupting his sleeping cycle is not good for him, and affects him seriously; also, he can't do much to consciously affect it, like forcing himself to stay awake for a whole day (a whole night to a human), because he is too young. Imagine a four or six year old human kid: as the night rolls by, they'll just fall asleep.  
5th, "That incident at the beginning of last year": Most of it shall be explained next chapter, or maybe, if you get lucky, I'll do a full-fledged flashback.  
6th, I refuse to confuse myself or others with the count of the flights of any building, so we'll do this the simple way: ground floor = first floor, next one up: second floor, the following: third floor, and so on, so forth, savvy?  
7th, Loss: the complications that arise from the separation of a bloodling and their sire. It is the name of both the psychological and physiological complications.

And GODDAMMIT! but the research on Japan was a FUCKIN' PAIN IN THE ASS!

And I think that's it, nothing more to say, but see you in the next chapter.


	5. Father and Son

A/N: I will be brief.

I'm Chilean, I live in Concepción. If you watch the news you know I went through an atrocious earthquake on 2/27/2010.

The muse went mute with it. It panicked, fled and hid in some reclusive corner of my mind.

Please bear with it.

_Disclaimer: I don't own HP. I DO own this plot. DO NOT COPY._

* * *

**In the Heart of the Family**

Ch 05: **Father and Son**

It was fifteen minutes before nine in the evening, two days after the Stephanos' meeting with the professors of Hogwarts, and Zephan was feeling much better, if still ailed by frequent assaults of pain that tugged at his heart. He was presently bouncing on his seat in one of the couches in the family lounge in the second floor, an open book lying useless at his side and the TV blaring loudly, unheard and unseen, right in front of him. His current state of bubbling impatience was due to the fact that according to schedule his father was supposed to return in only fifteen minutes, at nine o-clocks, the evening of the seventeenth of June, a Saturday. He was practically oozing nervous energy, his discomfort and pain completely forgotten as his attention was fully taken by impatience and expectation. Because who _cared_ if his chest hurt, _dad was coming back_ and that was all he could think about.

A torturous eternity of pacing and fidgeting passed before the soft purr of a state of the art motor drifted up to the living room as the wheels rolled to a stop quietly outside the mansion's front doors. Zephan was off like lightning, foregoing most stair steps, taking them four to six at a time. He hit the ground floor running and was out the door before Hiroshi could step into the entrance hall to receive the House's Lord. In less than a second he was at the driver's side of an immaculate Lexus IS 350 of the year and all but ripped the door open and threw himself at the driver. Vincent, who was seated behind the wheel, took a couple of seconds to register what had occurred and to recognize the body clinging tightly to his own. When he did, he returned Zephan's effusive welcome wholeheartedly.

"Hello to you too, Zephan," said Vincent softly into his son's ear.

"Hullo dad," mumbled Zephan in return, clutching stubbornly to his father, his face buried in the older man's neck, taking in that beloved scent he'd misses so much lately.

After a fair few minutes in which they held the exact same position, Vincent spoke again. "I need you to get off me, Zephan."

"Dun wanna."

"You do know I need to get out of the car, don't you Zeph?"

"You can carry me." The pout was all but visible in Zephan's childish tone.

"Aren't you a bit too old for that kind of treatment?"

"Nuh-uh, I'm not even two years old yet," answered the bloodling with cheeky childishness.

"Only when it suits you, my son. Only when it suits you."

"But of course!" said Zephan, pushing off his father and placing his hands on his hips, only a hint of his previous childish behaviour showing through his arrogant pose and tone. Said impersonation of dignified arrogance was spectacularly ruined by the fact that he was propped on his father's lap.

"Come on, kid," said Vincent and with one fluid movement pulled himself and Zephan out of the car, his arms cradling his son's bottom to hold him up against his chest, a mischievous smirk plastered on his face.

"HEY! I didn't mean it! Let me down! C'mon dad! Put me DOWN! DAD!" Zephan's complains could be heard all through the grounds of the Stephanos' Mansion as Vincent made his way into the house and up to his room, unperturbed by his son's screams and futile attempts to free himself from his father's fierce hold. Nevertheless, Vincent and Zephan smiled widely all the way, glad to be back together.

* * *

The three Stephanos present in the house were gathered in the master bedroom, all lying on the bed as some randomly selected CD played on the background all but completely ignored by the vampires as they rejoiced in each other's company. Vincent was sandwiched between his sons, who stubbornly refused to let go of him, even in the lethargy induced by their satiated appetite. Vincent, on the other hand, was starting to feel the sharp bite of hunger that gnawed insistently at his stomach, accompanied by a surging headache. Feeding his children after his long absence had taken its toll on him. It took him a few minutes, but after one last insistent tug he managed to free himself from his now sleeping sons' grasp and sit up enough to reach the phone and dial the code to the staff's hall.

Amongst the seven permanent members of his house's staff there were to humans. They were two maids that worked day shifts, usually in charge of cleaning up after great events in the first floor or tending to daytime visitors. But their other purpose in the house was to serve as donors to the vampires. One quick glance at the ornate wooden desk clock on his bedside table told him it was just a few minutes past eight, so Sandra's shift should be starting just about now. A tired smile crept up his face as he waited for someone to answer. Finally, after four rings the calling tone stopped and was replaced by Hiroshi's voice that greeted him as formal and composed as ever.

"Good morning, my Lord. How may I help you?"

"Good morning, Hiroshi," he replied, a spark of old amusement rising at the too formal greeting. "I was wondering if Sandra has already arrived."

"She just came in my Lord."

"Good. Could you please tell her I require her personal assistance? I'm in my room right now."

"Of course, my Lord. She will be up in a minute."

"Thank you Hiroshi. Have a good day."

"May you rest well too, my Lord. Good bye."

The line went dead after those words, startling Vincent's tired mind with its apparent abruptness. With one long heavy sigh, the vampire lord turned off the phone and allowed the weight of his body to pull him back down onto the bed. The mattress bounced beneath him to accommodate his fall as the wireless receiver rolled off his hand to disappear within the folds of sheets and comforters.

It wasn't long, probably just that one minute Hiroshi had predicted, before a soft respectful knock on the doors of his vast quarters travelled unhindered to his ears. He called out quietly for the person to enter, just loud enough to ensure his human employee would be able to hear. Immediately one of the doors swung in to allow entrance to a slightly short woman of mocha coloured skin, forest green eyes and dark auburn hair. She was relatively young, barely in her late twenties, and every aspect of her body, from her shining hair, to her smooth skin, from her hard nails to her slim, worked out body, spoke of an exceptionally healthy woman. It was a requirement for any donator, for it reflected in the quality of the nourishment given to the vampires. She stood perfectly still, her gaze lowered slightly in respect as the door closed behind her.

With a not so slight effort, Vincent pulled himself free of the grasp of the bedspreads and into a sitting position, still besieged by his sons. He then beckoned the young woman closer to him and, with carefully humbled but firm strides, she made her way over the lush carpet to the bedside.

"Good morning Sandra," he said pleasantly in Japanese.

"Good morning, my lord," she answered also in the Nippon tongue, bowing deeply from the waist.

"Ah, this is awkward," he started after a few seconds of silence. "I'm embarrassed to say I'm unable to stand right now, Sandra. I- I'm sorry, I know this must be terribly uncomfortable for you, but if you could sit on the bed…"

"There is no need to worry, my Lord," she assured after Vincent's sentence had trailed of in discomfort. "I understand your sons had been eager to see you. Even Lord Sirius had been acting exceptionally childish for the last couple of days," she added with a spark of amusement.

Vincent smiled at the young woman with gratitude, and with one last effort to attempt to make the situation less awkward for his recently married house maid, he pushed himself a few inches forward and out of the small nook his curled up children created around him. As he did so, Sandra sat at the foot of the bed and then pushed herself onto the mattress to kneel in _seiza_ position on it. Then, in a clear display of her nimble dexterity and agile strength, she walked on her knees keeping a perfect posture in an immaculate _shikkou_ style until she was sitting in front of her lord. Vincent, who had in the meantime forced himself to sit in the same posture, bowed to her while seating and then took hold of the hand that she freely offered to him.

There was something ritualistic about the simple yet symbolic daily chores that entranced the eastern cultures. Therein, they found something sacred to the periodicity, to the perfect repetition of movements, to the flawless execution of actions that only endless practice could achieve. Routine created such a fascination, it created such wonder and amazement, that it had been, in some cases, turned into an art. Tea making was one of those rituals. Blood donation was another.

Protocol dictated that a formal exchange or donation should take place in a specially designated quarter or, if the donator preferred it, out in the gardens. Fairly sized, preferably of hardwood floor or in lack thereof covered with _tatami_ mats, with only windows and paintings on the walls, and near the corners some life in the form of flowers or koi fish and some running water, illuminated only by off white candles, the room should offer only a silk cushion for each participant and fresh air through open windows. The procedure demanded that the donor be treated like an honour guest, with upmost respect and deference. The etiquette required that the donor be dressed fully in white and that his offered wrist be bandaged with a white cloth, symbolizing the prime quality of the donation and the pristine cleanness of the proffered source respectively. Presently, barely any of those requirements was met, and the one thing that prevented the situation from becoming wholly disgraceful, socially preposterous and ethically outrageous was the fact that Sandra had freely accepted the awkward and outright disrespectful conditions.

It was with great care, even reverence, that Vincent untied the pure white cloth around Sandra's wrist and brought the proffered hand to his lips. He pressed it lightly against them and sent a tender wave of power to the donor, making sure to spare her any pain and any more discomfort. He then swiftly sunk his already elongated, hungry fangs into the delicate skin of her wrist.

The crimson liquid of her life pooled in his mouth like molten heaven, trickled down his throat like water from the fountain of youth, and spread it's warmth through his body like the tender touch of spring's sun over cool skin. For a moment, his mind blanked to everything but the wonderful sensation of the delicious blood, but he was quick to bring himself back to reality. When he was finally satiated, one sweep of his tongue and a spark of magic over the puncture wounds stitched the skin back into its previous unblemished state.

"_Domo arigatou gosaimashita_" said Vincent, sotto voce, as he bowed deeply once again to his housemaid and donor. "I am deeply sorry for the precarious conditions and any discomfort I might have caused you."

"_Dou itashi mashite, Vincent-sama_" answered Sandra with an equally respectful bow. She then backtracked to the end of the bed and stepped down. "There is no need for you to worry, my Lord. You can trust me to have let you know if I had felt any real discomfort, sir." Her sincere smile and easy posture as she stood at the foot of the bed served to ease away Vincent's worries.

"Thank you again, for both your donation and your comprehension, Sandra."

"You're most welcome Lord Vincent." And with one last smile and bow, Sandra left the room, the lock clinking softly as the door closed on its own.

The moment the door closed, Vincent slumped unceremoniously back down to the mattress, burying himself in the covers between his two youngest children. A content sigh escaped his lips and a peaceful smile curled them up as he was lulled to sleep by their rhythmic breathing.

* * *

It was two in the morning and Zephan was pacing across his room restlessly, his mind planning, scheming and devising only to ultimately come up empty-handed. It had been an hour since he left the donation room after receiving a lunch-worth's fill from Sora, one of the two humans to work in the house, and an hour since he had retired to his room and begun his pacing. He still couldn't think of a way to breach the delicate subject of overbearing-ness and over-protectiveness to his father. It was driving him crazy –seriously.

After more senseless pacing, a sharp turn put him face to face with his wall-clock, and it in time revealed that it was now _a quarter to three_ in the morning. He then decided that he would have to forego planning and simply take it in stride, acting in accordance to how the situation presented itself, because he couldn't postpone this conversation. It was imperative that he talk to his father so they could solve this problem before he found himself incapable of doing his ambassador's job. The problem was he just _knew_ he would say something wrong and end up hurting his father in some way. And if he was honest with himself, he didn't really want to try to force the detachment process after it had been stunted for the last thirteen months. He was as scared as his father of a possible repeat of the incident from last year. But there was no way around it. He was already suffering the effects of their negligence, and was now overly dependent on his father's presence, at least, too much for a bloodling his physical age. Twenty two months old vampire or not, as a nearly sixteen year old boy, he should already be able to comfortably spend ten days away from his father, which he actually was incapable of.

Heaving one last shuddering sigh of resignation, Zephan pulled himself together and with apparently confident steps that did nothing to hide his nervousness, made his way quickly down the hall before his resolve abandoned him. He reached the elegant forged iron spiral staircase that lead to the fourth and last floor of the mansion and to his father's study far too soon for his liking. Finally, drawing one last steadying breath, he lunged determinately up the stairs.

The topmost floor of the mansion was another world altogether. Marble, stone and concrete were replaced wholly by wood. No ceiling masked the underside of the roof. Instead large boards of Lahuán wood served as revetment for the inside of the structure. Thick beams and rafters of the same wood suspended up the structure as ornate forged iron junctions held up the arrangement. The topmost point of the roof stood over eight meters above the floor, its lowest at nearly six. The walls were covered by similar though finer revetment, while the floor was fully paved by rosewood parquet. This storey extended over half the expanse of the building, and most of its vaulted space was occupied by the Stephanos private library. Over four meters tall bookshelves were lined with upmost efficiency all over the floor, and held in their depths thousands of books, manuscripts and scrolls, some as old as writing itself. Overhead, chandelier like wooden lamps hanged from wooden chains, illuminating the corridors and reading areas.

At the centre of the great chamber, a three body couch, a sofa and three plush armchairs surrounded a low coffee table, on which's glass surface stood a floral arrangement. At each side of the couch and sofa, glass-topped wooden side tables supported ornately carved rosewood lamps, and to one side, a wheeled table was place to collect all use materials. Evenly spaced between the centre and the corners of the great room, four more similar sitting areas were hidden in the labyrinth of shelves.

Only two doors projected from the library, one to each side of the manor. To the left, a large, beautifully carved lahuán door led to a curating room. To the far right, an equally elaborate and large rosewood door gave way to Vincent Stephanos' private study.

Zephan stood in front of said rosewood door, insecurities threatening to consume his resolve. With great effort and willpower, he pushed himself to lift a trembling hand and forced it to steady before knocking three times on the fragrant wood.

"Come in." Vincent's voice drifted through seamlessly.

It took an even greater effort and exercise of his will to turn the knob and push the door open.

"Morning dad," Zephan's voice drifted softly through the air, nervousness stalling him at the doorway. "May I come in?"

"Of course you may, son." Vincent swiftly turned on his antique wood-and-leather swivelling chair, a slight frown of worry creasing his brow at his youngest's hesitance. His eyes roamed with practised ease over his son's body, searching for any sign that may hint to the source of his discomfort. When he found nothing but the discomfort itself, he resorted to questioning.

"Are you alright son?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

"Y-yes dad," Zephan answered, instantly cursing his nervous stutter.

"Are you sure?" insisted Vincent, his frown deepening.

"Yes dad." Zephan hoped his voice sounded confident enough this time.

"You don't look well." Apparently it wasn't. That or –most probably- his dad was already fully in mother-hen mode.

"Dad, I'm ok." At least his father's insistence worked to his favour. It annoyed him enough to get over his apprehension and convincingly portray an exasperated teenager attitude.

"It will do no harm to check," said Vincent as he gracefully rose from his chair

"Dad! It's really not necessary." Zephan took a step back to avoid his father's concerned hand. The motion froze Vincent on his tracks

"You look pale dear-"

"I'm a vampire, dad!"

"-Unhealthily so, Zeph."

"Good Gods, dad, I'm OK!"

"It won't hurt to make sure of it."

"Gaia, dad! I didn't come here so you could take me to have a full medical check-up!"

"Whatever brought you here can wait until you are well, I'm sure."

He regretted it the very moment his eyes hardened and directed all his frustration in one cold glare at his father. He shifted his gaze instantly, but he knew the damage was done. His father's silence and his startled, confused and slightly hurt eyes were solid proof. Burying his face in his hands he let out an irritated growl before pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes, trying futilely to stop the rapidly surging headache. With one last huff of annoyance he straightened himself and looked at his father, studiously avoiding his eyes even as he fixed his gaze on the redhead's face.

"Dad, we need to talk – urgently."

"Is something wrong, Zephan?" asked Vincent, his voice soft and tight because of the knot of worry in his throat.

"Yes dad, something is seriously wrong –and no, it has nothing to do with my health." He blurted the last part in an attempt to prevent an even more vicious rising of his father's overprotective tendencies.

"What's going on, Zeph?"

"I- eh…"

"Son?"

"Dad… why don't we just sit, please?" Zephan's voice was low and tired as he rubbed his face with his hands once again.

"Zephan, you're worrying me, son." Vincent's equally quiet but tight voice was heartbreaking to the young vampire, and he wished fervently that this wasn't necessary.

"I'm worried too, dad," said Zephan, his tone soft and slightly fearful. He stomped forcefully on those feelings before they got the better of him and rendered him incapable of speaking. It was with another heavy sigh that he sat himself on the only sofa in the room as his father backtracked to his armchair. The ancient's brows were creased and his whole face was drawn with worry, his eyes fixed on Zephan's face.

"What's wrong Zephan?"

"I… Good Gods! I don't even know where to start…"

"Son?"

"Dad, you see, this is difficult enough for me to say _in my head, __**to myself**_, so please don't interrupt me because I don't think I'll be able to start again if you do, 'k?"

"I- very well."

"I…" he tried once again to get his voice out, to put his thoughts into words as he had repeatedly during the last couple of days, but his eloquence seemed to have deserted him. He finally looked at his father in the eye, and saw in them the urgent need to say something, if only to prompt him to continue. He was infinitely grateful for his father's restrain. "Ahh… Well, I've been thinking a lot lately and I've realized that, you know, since I'm going to Hogwarts, that we need to do something, because, well, I don't think I can go if this goes on and I…"

Once again, Zephan trailed of, meaning failing to coat his words, as his father's concern grew exponentially with every hesitant word that slipped out of his mouth.

"Well… Oh, gods… Dad," He let out a shivering sigh. "I don't know how to say this- I want to say 'please don't take this the wrong way' but I don't think that is even possible! And God knows I don't want t hurt you.

"Dad, you know I love you, right? I've always loved you, and I do more every day. I'm incredibly grateful for all you've done for Sirius and me, so please don't take this as childish ungratefulness or arrogance… Good gods, the very idea of this hurts dad, but- I need us to force the detachment process."

Finally, he'd said it. Heavens, no trial or test life had put before him had been as difficult to surpass as this, not even deciding to break up with Nicolás.

A look at his father revealed an utterly stunned red head, shock seeping through his usually impeccable composure unhindered. His mouth was slightly agape, his eyes just a tad too wide, glossy and unnervingly focused on his son's. Taking one deep, strengthening breath, he continued before his father could interrupt.

"I don't want to have to do this, dad, but the problem is, your absence hurt this last week and-"

"Why didn't you tell me!" Wrong thing to say. His father's shock had vanished into nothingness, worry fuelled anger taking over in the blink of an eye.

"Because it would have done no good, dad!" he interjected, his tone heated.

"I could have returned earlier if you had told me anything, son. It's dangerous for you to hide such problems!"

"But that is exactly the problem!" His deflated not a second later, slumping into the sofa. He continued his tone quiet and his eyes resigned as they locked on his father's. "Both of us living together for eternity is not the solution dad. On the contrary, it only worsens the problem. I said I didn't mean to sound ungrateful, that I don't want to be a brat. I mean it dad. I'm saying this because I'm sincerely worried that I won't be able to grow up at all and develop properly of this goes on."

"What do you mean?" his father asked after a hesitant silence, his voice tight.

"I mean what I just said." He sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly once again. "I've been studying dad, studying, researching, consulting Hiroshi, Rowan, Dr. Taka and many others, and I know I should be able to spend at least a week, technically ten days, away from you comfortably. I know I should be able to stretch that lapse to up to two week. The problem, dad, is that for me, just one week away from you is stretching my limits. That is not healthy"

Heavy silence settled over them, Vincent's face sickly pale and his eyes for once, not masking his emotions for the sake of his strong facade. It was after long seconds of tense quietness that Vincent spoke, his voice tremulous.

"But son, not everyone is the same. I mean, that you do not follow the average curve doesn't mean you are not developing properly-"

"Dad, it's not the average that I don't match, is the whole normal spectrum that I'm below of."

"But you, we went through a… a complicated situation, we are not an average case." It pained him to hear that underlying pleading tone in his father's voice.

"We went through a traumatic experience dad; that is true." He tried to convey some reassurance through his eyes, but he couldn't help but feel he failed abysmally. "But clinging to past pains will only cause us more hurt."

"You are not ready for this son. If it hurts you still to be away from me-"

"Dad, believe me -please believe me- when I say I'm as scared as you are at the prospect of forcing the detachment process. But it must be done," -he emphasized the absolute necessity of it.

"Some information from internet is not enough to make a diagnosis, son-"

"Dad, it's not only research! I consulted **three** different doctors, specialists on development, and they **all** coincided in their conclusion." Something about his father's stubborn refusal hurt. Couldn't he see this was necessary? Couldn't he trust his judgement just this once?

"Son, doing this is dangerous. You're not ready-"

"Of course I'm not ready! I will never be ready if we continue to push this back!" he couldn't help but let his frustration seep through. His eyes stung with unbidden tears of frustration and hurt. With a shuddering sigh and great effort he pushed them back before continuing. "Dad, please. Being stubborn will only hurt us both. I have a job to do, and I may not be able to do it-"

"We can have some else-"

"But that is not the point," he said, a tired smile pulling at his lips as frustration and heartache struck again. "The point is that one way or another, I would be leaving this house, either to start university, or to do my duty as Lord of the Saphyre House. I'm growing up dad, and I **need** you to let go. I need to start this new phase in my life, and I can't do so if I'm forcefully tied to your presence because of our negligence."

"You are not even sixteen, Zephan..." The raw fear in his father's voice hurt like a knife through is throat.

"Dad, please. Don't make this even harder than it is," his eyes pleaded with his father's fearful ones. "We both know that my physical age has little to nothing to do with my development stage. You wouldn't have had me skip all those years in grade school if you didn't think so."

"But this is not about intellectual development-"

"Dad, please!" He couldn't help it. In an instant he was in front of his father, his arms pulling the older man into a tight embrace, his father's head resting on his chest as he bent down to rest his own on his father's crown.

"Dad, I know this scares you; it scares me too, more than you probably think. But I need this, dad. Please, trust me. I need you to trust me on this dad. I need you to believe in me, in us." He felt his father shiver in his embrace, and he tightened his hold on the redhead, trying to convey all his love and need in that one simple gesture.

It was after long minutes of contemplative silence in which each of them tried to wring answers and understanding from the other's grip that Zephan finally pulled away.

"Dad, you know I love you, don't you?" he asked, his voice frail after the heart wrenching conversation, his eyes boring deep into his father's red orbs.

"Yes. And I love you too, son," his answering gaze was steady, but still afraid.

"Then you should know that I'm not trying to leave you." trying his best to portray his conviction through his voice and eyes. "You are my Dad. You may not be my biological father, but you are my Sire, and most importantly, you are my Dad. You are the man I love, the man I look up to. You are the one I consider my hero, you are the one I strive to be at least have as good as. You are whom I wish to make proud with every achievement; only you, dad. That hasn't changed; it never will. It's the context that must change, for both of our wellbeing."

"I'm sorry son. I was inattentive and failed you again. I-"

"Dad-" he grasped his father's now bowed face tenderly with both hands and pulled it up. A soft smile curved his lips. "I never blamed you; not even once. Not for this, not for the incident last year. And by no means have I ever believed you've failed me. Things happen, dad, and at times they hurt us. We just have to learn to pick ourselves up again. Please forgive yourself dad."

Vincent's eyes watered until his sight was blurred, the knot in his throat stalling any and all words. In a desperate attempt to express what he couldn't put into words, he pulled his son towards him and onto his lap, his arms snaking around the smaller body and tightening them around his son almost desperately.

"I love you, Zeph." His voice was hoarse with raw emotion.

At some point in time, his son had changed. At some point in time, the teenage he had turned into his bloodling had become a young adult, with ambitions and plans for his future. And he had missed it all in his fear, in his denial. He had missed a crucial and beautiful phase in his son's development all because he feared the separation it entailed. Never again, he promised fervently in his mind. Never again would he let the past blind him to his child's striking present.

"I love you too, dad."

* * *

_A/N_: FIIIINAAALLYYYYYYYYYYYYY!

Damned DRAMA! It's just SO… _**dramatic**_. I have a Love-Hate relationship with it. Meh… well, this chapter is relatively short, but hopefully tense enough to have felt longer to you guys ^^; Mind you, I had planned to do a flashback on the "events from the beginning of last year", but that "I love you too, dad" had such finality to it, that I just _had_ to end the chapter there.

I feel like I need to say this: I wrote most of this chapter from personal experience. I know that at some points the father-and-son roles seem to be reversed, but what actually is happening (I hope no one really needs this clarification, but I'll give it nonetheless) is that Vincent was left behind by Zephan. What I mean, is that at some point, Zephan matured and Vincent didn't realize it, because he didn't want to accept the implications of such growth, and is now both afraid and greatly unsettled because his denial was not only noticed by his son, but explicitly brought to his notice. I say it's taken from personal experience because, though I didn't go through something as extreme as this, I went through something similar. I decided to live home on my own volition to study out of town, not because there was no University in town that taught medicine (what I'm studying), but because I actually wanted to leave home. I'm very attached to my parents, and am a very comfortable with being pampered, but I kind of feared I'd never grow up if I didn't leave home. The thing was, the third best University in my country is in my city (Concepción), and the best two are in Santiago (Chile's capital). I applied for all three universities, but when my mum asked me, "if you had the chance to choose to go to Santiago or stay here, what would you choose?" I had to say Santiago. Even after she bribed me with enlarging my bedroom and buying me a car xP (Yes, I gave up an even bigger room and a car, nutters, right?). So you see, I kinda know from where Zephan's coming. I remember hugging my mum just like that after saying yes, I'm leaving if I can, and remember the same fear in her eyes. But she was proud. So proud it makes me burst thinking about it ^/^

But well, now to the useful info:

1. Chapter title: It's a direct allusion to the song _Father and Son_ by Cat Stevens. I LOVE IT! It just suits this chapter so well too.  
2. FINAL FANTASY VII ADVENT CHILDREN SHAMELESS RIP-OFF "_I never blamed you; not even once_": said by Aerith's spirit to Cloud © Square-Enix.  
3. I **researched** the best-selling, top-rated and most-reliable luxury cars of 2006. I. Want. That. Lexus.


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